


The Unfortunate Side-Effects of Being Human

by NecroFaix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NecroFaix/pseuds/NecroFaix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the last humans left on earth after an alien invader took over and flooded the planet, Dirk Strider finds himself alone. His only companions are the three friends he chats with online and whatever he can make by hand on his island of an apartment building. But with his mind he can create almost anything and soon loneliness will be the least of his worries as he concentrates on facing what he hates about himself, more human interaction than he's used to, and fighting for his life. And for Hal, there's a lot he has yet to learn about being human and he might not like all the lessons in store for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a general direction for this but nothing set in stone. I just really love this ship and the only fanfictions I really see of it are quick oneshots and I really want something long and amazing. This might be long and it probably won't be amazing, but I'm going to give it a shot. But in all seriousness, if you start reading this and keep up with the updates you'll probably regret it immensely, so I wouldn't read this. 
> 
> Just sayin'.

Your name is Dirk Strider and you are pretty damn proud of yourself right now. You won’t lie, you honestly didn’t think you had the skill needed to construct something so complex and intricate but now, as your look down at your work with a smug smirk on your face and your arms crossed proudly against your puffed out chest, you have to give yourself a pat on the back for doing what you deemed impossible. 

The thing is beautiful.

Lying before you on a metal surgical table is what appears to be your naked, dead body and the sight makes you want to grin.

Of course the body isn’t yours. It’s not even human. It’s a very carefully designed and built android that, visually, is a perfect replica of your body and as biologically human as you could possibly make it. You reach out and absently run your fingers along the synthetic skin you designed, still marveling over how real it feels. It’s cold, though, but you know it won’t be for long if things go well. Your fingers travel up the forearm and slowly to the shoulder where you give it a small squeeze to feel solid, iron joints beneath the layers of skin, sensors, and heaters. Then you continue your way up the neck, fingers pressing into the skin to feel specially designed tendons and lithe but incredibly strong muscles made out of a stretchy but nearly unbreakable rubber. You trace the jaw then up to the lips and nose that match yours perfectly, over closed eyes where lashes brush lightly against your fingertips before you trace an eyebrow and then run your fingers carelessly through the blonde fibers sewed meticulously onto the head.

Once again you feel a surge of pride.

You created this work of art. Every little detail was made by your hands.

The last step was to see if the thing actually fucking worked.

You reach up and flick your shades back down onto your nose from where you had them up so you could see while putting the finishing touches on the bot. “Alright, this shit’s finally done. You ready to give it a shot, Hal? Let’s see how the machinery works first and then I’ll flip on the sensors to make sure all your background programs are working properly.”

The reply flickers instantly onto the lenses of your shades in red, holographic letters that hardly obscure your vision.

AR: Cool, let’s do this thing.

You nod and reach up to let your fingers brush against the arm of your kamina shades until they rested on a button. “Without the sensors on your balance is going to be shit. Unless you want to look like a dumbass I don’t suggest trying to move much.”

AR: Of fucking course I’m not going to try moving with the sensors disabled. What kind of idiot do you take me for?  
AR: It probably wouldn’t be too bright to move even with the sensors turned on considering the astronomical influx of data I’ll be receiving.  
AR: Are you sure my capacities are updated enough to handle the increased information I’ll be processing?  
AR: Overloads are bothersome enough in this form, but that one can feel pain.  
AR: I don’t even want to fucking think about how agonizing an overload would be in that body.

“It’s impossible to determine how much storage capacity you’ll need for this shit, but I assure you I tried to calculate as close as possible and then overestimated during my last update. You double and tripled checked my figures, remember?”

AR: Of course I don’t remember. I’m just a supercomputer with the impossibility to forget anything unless it’s deleted from my memory banks. Why would I remember something like that?

You huff out a slightly annoyed sigh. “Alright, enough of your sarcastic bullshit. Don’t make me regret this.” You press the button and immediately turn your attention to the android resting on the table in front of you. The red text disappears completely from your vision and your finger moves to the next button down on your shades. It’s an emergency kill switch so that, should something go wrong, you can hopefully get Hal’s consciousness back into his shades and out of the body. You wait with baited breath though your face is expressionless as you watch for signs of life.

The first sign is nearly imperceptible; so faint you wouldn’t have notice it if it wasn’t for the fact you’ve been hearing nothing but ocean waves and gulls crying out for over four hours. Your ears pick up and indentify the new sound nearly instantly.

It’s a faint hum, much like the one you hear whenever your computer is running. The rhythm is different, more matching with the faint hum of life Sawtooth and Squarewave had though the sound was softer and smoother than theirs.

Then the chest moves with a breath. And another and another until it too picks up a steady rhythm.

Finally the eyes flicker open, the hands twitch, and the head turns towards you as the lips curve up in a smirk. Looking at it now, the eyes were a clear giveaway the body wasn’t human. It had been impossible to make anything resembling human eyes that worked. These had a distinct mechanical look to them if viewed up close. The irises were a deep red while the surrounding area was black. Watching those eyes was like looking at an adjusting camera lens as they contracted and dilated to take in the light and visual information of the surrounding area.

Regardless of the eeriness, you smirk back as you drop your hands from your shades.

“So far so good, then,” you mutter, reaching out to brush your fingers once more along the skin of Hal’s new arm. You can feel the warmth just under the synthetic material, taking the deathly chill from the body. “How does it feel? Go ahead and take a quick scan to make sure everything’s working properly before I turn on the sensors.”

You watch Hal work his new mouth for a second, getting a feel for the controls. His hands tightened and relaxed and he wiggled his toes before attempting speech. When he did talk, it was slow and deliberate with him enunciating every letter. “Seems to be in working order.” The voice is monotone but human-sounding, pieced together from clips of your own speech. You theorize that, with time, the vaguely robotic tone will dissipate and he’ll sound completely human.

“There are no problems you can sense with a scan? The cooling system is working? No faulty wire connections anywhere?”

Hal shakes his head slowly. “Nope. Systems are A-OK. Everything seems to be in working order. Let’s try out the sensors now.” His lips twitch into an eager smirk and you give a short nod before reaching up and pressing another button, your fingers hovering once again in case you needed to switch Hal back into his shades.

You watch his face carefully for any signs of pain or overload even though you don’t have the faintest clue what that would look like on a human face. You assume it would look like agony.

You thankfully don’t see that.

Hal stiffens perceptibly on the table, his body shivering and his eyes closing as his breath catches in what looks like surprise. When he breaths out again it’s in a small chuckle and he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling in what could only be amazement. “Wow. This table is fucking cold, what the hell? Didn’t you heat this thing?”

The look on your face matches the look on his as you reach out cautiously to touch his arm again.

You immediately pull back when he flinches from the touch and exhales roughly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is a light murmur and he takes a couple of deliberately deep breaths that you know he doesn’t need. He might feel like he does, but his body doesn’t run on oxygen so breathing is just aesthetic for him.

He shifts on the table, his hands sliding back to very carefully push him into sitting position. He’s testing things, moving slowly and figuring out his limits. When he’s sitting up with his hands behind him on the table to support him, he turns his attention back to you. “Let’s just save needless touching for when I get used to physical sensation, okay?”

Your name is Hal and holy fuck this is the best thing you’ve ever felt.

There are no words to describe the sensations you’re feeling now that you have what, to you, is a living body. Not only did Dirk work to make everything on the outside as human as possible, he worked to make you feel as human as possible too.

A smirk brushes against the corner of your lips and it’s something you hardly think about consciously. It’s the result of a background program kicking in, triggered from your happiness and awe regarding the situation. With only the barest of knowledge unless you’re focusing on it, the program sent a small electric current along your sensors, exactly mimicking the electric current the human neural system ran on. The electric current made muscles contract and relax to produce the smirk.

You suddenly become aware that you’re blinking and breathing. Both are other background programs working not on your emotions, but automatically to produce a more human effect. You know the breaths aren’t needed but when you consciously stop the program you can feel an uncomfortable pressure building your chest as another background program kicks in, triggered by the artificial lungs’ lack of movement. The same happens when you stop blinking. Blinking isn’t necessary but there’s an uncomfortable dry feeling produced when you stop. You know damn well the only liquid in this body is the coolant circling through the veins to keep your circuitry from overheating, so the dry feeling is a load of shit when blinking doesn’t produce moisture.

But you enjoy it all the same because it makes you feel human.

“How do you feel?”

You blink again and turn to face Dirk, realizing you had been silent for a full two minutes and eleven seconds. From the look on his face, the lack of response had concerned him. This brings the smirk back to your face.

“I feel alive.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks after Hal's gotten his new body and he thinks he's pretty hot shit. Dirk has other thoughts on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I'm warning all of you that you don't want to continue this endeavor. Stop reading while you still can.
> 
> On that note, my tumblr is turntechdickrider so updates and stuff will probably be posted on there if you're interested. I'm also tracking the tag TUSEOBH, which is what I decided the abbreviation is going to be since the title is fucking long. I'm sorry this is a long and boring chapter. This is probably going to be a long and boring story.

Watching him work is the most annoying thing you think you’ve ever discovered. You sit on the small milk crate in what was deemed Dirk’s WIP room--mainly a place where he stores parts and works on various projects that are scattered around in different stages of development--you can’t help but feel your annoyance grow. 

Sawtooth is there, powered off but standing straight and without his usual dark cowl that served as needless clothing for him. Dirk has his back hatch popped open, his fingers digging around for wires and a flashlight held in his mouth so he can see in the dark, narrow space. He has smears of grease on his face, sweat beading on his forehead, and his shades sitting on his head so he can see clearer. Every so often the flashlight beam wobbles and he has to tilt and strain to get the beam to point the right direction while his hands are busy updating the complicated mess of machinery in front of him.

You can only watch from your hunched position for so long before the annoyance finally has you standing up and snatching the flashlight from Dirk’s mouth. He shoots you a dirty look at the intrusion and you make a face at the wetness on the end of the stick before you direction it where Dirk’s hands are. 

“For fuck’s sake, if you need help just ask. I have the dexterity to hold a flashlight, you know,” you mutter, attempting to keep the majority of the irritation out of your tone.

Dirk narrows his eyes but returns his attention to his work with the new and more stable light source. “I can do fine by myself, Hal. I did survive before I created you, remember?”

He’s a prideful little shit that hates accepting help from anyone. You only know that because you’re the same way. So far you haven’t accepted a bit of help from him in your adaptation to your new form, claiming that you would never learn if you didn’t get the hang of things yourself. He hovered over you like a projective mother, constantly trying to catch you if you stumbled and offering to design some simple exercises for you to get the hang of things. You denied and pushed him off whenever he touched you.

You learned the hard way that rug burn really fucking hurts and you liked to think you were a better person for struggling through this yourself without his help. 

In your mind this was an entirely different argument, though. This wasn’t about learning, this was about helping and that was something Dirk had vehemently denied to let you do and it was starting to get on your manufactured nerves.

“Yeah, okay, so you can survive without my help. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be more convenient for you to let me provide assistance,” you point out as you keep the narrow flashlight beam trained on Dirk’s hands. “You know I can take care of the monthly updates myself. Why don’t you let me take over bot maintenance so you can work on other things? Your day is fucking jammed packed with fishing and water distillation shit, so let me do this so you can work on something else and maybe have some god damn free time later.”

You didn’t even get half of your speech out before Dirk was shaking his head. “No, the bots are my responsibility and I don’t want anyone other than me digging around in them.”

“I am you.”

“I meant me, me. Not me you.”

You puff out a sigh and purposely make the flashlight beam wobble a bit. “Then teach me the other shit. While you’re working on this, I can work on catching and preparing food. Either way it knocks out another bothersome chore you’ll have to do.”

He infuriatingly shakes his head again. “You don’t even eat why the hell should you have to get food?”

“To help you, dumbass.”

“I don’t need your help, Hal.”

You lapse into a pissed off silence that Dirk doesn’t bother breaking. He either doesn’t realize your mood because he’s too busy with the update or he just doesn’t care. Each is possible and equally likely. The only sound in the room besides the constant stream of ocean waves and seagulls is clanking metal as Dirk squeezes his wrench into the tight space of wires to tighten a few loose bolts. He doesn’t speak until he has the wrench lying in its original position on the floor and can you give you enough attention to actually turn around and look at you. 

“Okay look, I realize you want to help out but even I don’t know the limitations of your body yet and I’m the one that fucking built it. I’ll admit, you’ve excelled the past two weeks and in that short amount of time you’ve gotten further than I thought you would. You have great control over your body and your speech functions are nearly indistinguishable from a normal human. That’s fucking great, man. I’m proud of you, really. But it’s only been two weeks and I don’t want you to wreck that body while it’s still new.”

His words make your irritation spike and you’re very tempted to shine the flashlight in his eyes or shove it down his throat. Instead, you lower the light and keep your voice calm. “I’m not going to wreck the body. I don’t have great control, I have complete control. I know I can work every function of this android without batting a metaphorical eye and you damn well know it too. If you were in my position you know you would be getting restless as well. Let me do something.”

Dirk’s orange eyes scan your face and you stare back steadily at him from behind your shades.

Then he abruptly stands up, dusts off his hands, and starts closing up Sawtooth’s back hatch. “No dice. You’re still wearing that black body suit because the feeling of baggy clothes against your skin is too much stimulation for your sensors. You don’t have complete control yet. We can talk about this when you do.”

Admittedly, you were still wearing the black body suit Dirk designed since the constant brushing of clothes against skin used to drive you fucking batty. But that was when everything was new to you and you concentrated on every little stimulus detail. That was when you were so fascinated with the workings of your body that you had the compulsion to trace your every reaction from its original programming point, through the neural connections, to its ended result. It had never been just the clothing that caused too much stimulation; it had been your own concentration and fixation on it that made it a bother. Now you were adapted and easy blocked out needless information like the constant shift on fabric against skin. The body suit was merely a habit.

Even if you sat there and explained that to Dirk you doubted it would wholly change his mind.

Instead you do the next best thing.

“Let’s settle this with a strife, then.” 

He pauses in the middle of screwing the hatch shut and turns to give you a look with furrowed brows. You cross your arms over your chest, the flashlight still in your hand, and stand your ground. After a brief second Dirk shakes his head. 

“No. I just told you I don’t want to damage the body.” 

But you know Dirk better than anyone so you shoot him a haughty look. “Backing out of a challenge? That’s a pretty shitty move. I’m challenging you to a strife, bro, you can’t back down.”

His face hardens and he turns away from his project completely. “I said no, Hal. I’m not backing down, I’m saying no for fear of damaging what I worked years to create.”

“That doesn’t change the fact I’m challenging you. Strife. Right now. On the roof.”

“No.”

He’s being stubborn but it’s something you expect since you know, in his situation, you would be stubborn too. But that also means you know how to combat it. Not only do you have absolute confidence in your strifing ability, but you’re also fucking great at psychological warfare so you’re not even close to backing down. 

You search your memory banks for the clip you want, cropping out unnecessary parts within milliseconds. Then the black on your shades lights up with a holographic picture. The picture is reflected for you since it’s there for Dirk’s viewing pleasure and that doesn’t bother you a bit. It’s a smirking man, his face framed in the right triangle of your kamina glasses. His blonde hair his carefully combed over and styled and aviator shades cover his eyes. In his hand is a very familiar sword that extends out to the left triangle with how it’s position. Dirk’s eyes narrow further as the sound crackles on and the image moves and speaks. 

“So I figured I wouldn’t be a completely shitty guardian and leave you defenseless while I go off hopefully vanquishing shit,” Dave said, his tone devoid of anything that hinted at his emotion. “So this video is going to be a training video to teach you how to use the piece of shit sword I’m leaving here for you. You’re a Strider, kid, remember that. No matter how bleak a fight looks, you can’t give up or back down. Always give it your best shot or die trying--” 

You shut it off before he can finish the sentence, the glow from your shades receding back to their natural black color. Dirk looks like he wants the knock the smug expression from your face and bash it into the ground. It’s the reaction you were looking for. Your smirk widens and you drop the flashlight and brush past him for the door. 

“I’ll meet you on the roof, Dirk.”

You’re pissed. 

No, not pissed. Pissed isn’t a strong enough emotion to describe the amount of anger you’re feeling. It’s enough that your usually steady hands are shaking as you finish screwing on Sawtooths back hatch.

He had used Dave against you. Of course he would do that. Though there were minor differences due to different circumstances, Hal was pretty much you. His personality was a complete copy of your cognitive state a few years back. He knows your every weakness because his weaknesses are the same. The difference is his willingness to exploit it. You admire your dead brother and his bravery. You admire the videos he left to teach you how to take care of yourself in case he didn’t succeed with his mission--which of course he didn’t. Hal had no problem using that against you.

You leave Sawtooth powered down, flip your shades back over your eyes, and head to your room to grab your katana. You’re upset enough that the thought of damaging Hal’s body doesn’t sound like a terrible idea anymore and you head to the roof to meet him with every intention of knocking him down off that high horse of his.

Hal’s waiting for you, of course.

When you open the door, you see him standing in the middle of the roof with that obnoxious, triumphant look on his face like he’s already won and he knows it. His shades, matching to your own but much more complex to fit his programming, cover his abnormal eyes. Besides the fact he’s wearing a body suit, he could be your twin. Even the sword he has resting on his shoulder looks identical to the katana you have in your hands.

He acts like he’s superior and it pisses you off more.

There’s no prelude to the fight. You don’t say anything to him and he doesn’t say anything to you. You just flashstep forward for a merciless strike.

A strike that Hal, surprisingly, blocks.

Then the real fight starts. Slashes and stabs are parried, blocked, or sidestepped. You’ve learned through experience that fighting, or at least fighting with bots, is an intricate sort of dance. Every part of the body is involved and has to be working in perfect harmony if you want to survive. Footing has to be sure because one blocked shot or misstep can overbalance even the best fighter. Strength has to be saved or your limbs get tired and the sword becomes heavy and hard to swing. Movements need to be swift for quick strikes and even quicker dodges. Offense and defense need to be balanced--too much of one and not enough of the other will lead to a defeat. The mind needs to be clear and sharp so all enemy movements can be detected, analyzed, and a proper response determined: move out of the way or block? 

Of course, like anything else, it’s wonderful in theory but hard to practice.

Hal swung left at your side. Was blocked. You returned with a strong push to his sword and a strike at his arm that failed as Hal stepped to the side to avoid it. Hal stabbed. Missed. You feign left and strike right. Parried. Blocked. So on and so forth. The ringing of steel was masked by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. The warm sun quickly had sweat making your hair and clothes stick to your skin. It was a problem you knew Hal didn’t have since he couldn’t sweat but he had been built with background programs that fatigued him so you know he isn’t completely unaffected. 

Seven agonizing minutes into the fight and you realize you have a slight problem. 

The bots you build and strife with usually never last more than five minutes. That’s not say you aren’t used to fighting for long periods of time--Sawtooth gets a good eleven minutes--but the fact Hal is lasting longer than the others is a clear sign the fight won’t be as easy as you thought.

And Hal’s quick.

Extremely quick.

It’s clear he’s mastered the art of flashstepping because at nine minutes you start finding it harder and harder to raise your sword in time. You’re barely catching his powerful strikes and your breath is coming out in short pants. You’re far from tired, but if this keeps up much longer there’s actually a chance he might beat you. Sawtooth does occasionally and you’re sure half the time he lets you win. You have to think of something and quick. 

So you play dirty.

Hal swings for your right. You block, throw your balance onto your right foot to push his blade back while you sweep your left foot forward for his ankles.

The pressure he’s exerting on your sword lessens as his balance tips backwards and you know you’ve got him. He’s going to fall back and you’ll plant your sword at his neck and revel in the beauty of having been right. You created him. You’re superior to him. And like a dominant wolf facing off against a pup questioning his authority, you’re going to put him in his place.

What you don’t realize is that the loss of balance had been a fake to get you to loosen your grip on your sword. Hal’s right foot slides back to compensate his shift and right as you’re relaxed he launches his strength, full force towards you. In your shock you manage to grip your sword and brace yourself just in time but it’s not enough as his sword slides along yours. With a hard flick of his wrist, Hal’s blade catches on your hilt and flips the thing out of your loosened grip. 

Before you have time to curse out loud a strong hand is gripping your chin, fingers digging into your cheek and the cold press of steel was against your jugular. 

You freeze, chest heaving and eyes wide with shock as you stare into Hal’s shades, glad that you have your own on to somewhat mask your surprise from him. His haughty expression lets you know he can see it anyway and your face flushes with anger as he tightens his grip on you and smirks. 

“You’ll teach me to do shit around here, right?”

You swallow hard and the way it scratches at the inside of your throat and pushes at the sword to draw a dot of blood makes you feel like you physically just swallowed your pride. Then you spit out, “Fine,” while mentally hating yourself and the sound of your racing heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk gets himself a boyfriend and Hal is a manipulative bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I just love this pairing so much and this is fun to write. I'm sorry about the nearly every day update but while I'm out of school I'm trying to write as much as possible. And shit, look at this, we have the beginning of a plot here. It's about damn time.

Of course when it actually comes to Dirk keeping his promise and teaching you how to do shit around the house, the fucking bastard disappears and you can’t find him.

There’s an establish rhythm in the household, so an occasion when someone isn’t right where they usually are on schedule is rare and with you knowing Dirk as well as you do, a break in that rhythm throws you off. It’s one in the afternoon on Sunday. Usually Dirk spends the morning and part of the afternoon talking to his friends online and then, at one, he goes to out to catch dinner. Your plan was to intercept him as he got his fishing rod and tackle from the kitchen but he never showed up and according to his pesterchum, he’s offline and has been for a few minutes now.

You huff slightly as you lean against the wall between the living room and the kitchen with your arms crossed, more exasperated than you are annoyed at his lateness. Chances are, while you spent your morning reading online and talking to Roxy, he got busy working on a project and lost track of time. It happened often enough.

So you leave your sentinel spot and head for the WIP room. Before you get there you know for a fact it’s going to be empty. You can’t hear any movement or sound from the room and indeed, when you poke your head inside, there’s nothing there but the corpses of failed and beaten machines.

You shut the door to the WIP room right as a message beeps on your shades.

\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] started pestering timaeusTestified [TT] !! --

GG: Dirk!   
GG: I’m having a bit of trouble with something, when you get back online can you message me please?

Your auto-responder duties kick in and you message her back. You still work as Dirk’s answering machine and Dirk’s friends should know that there’s no reason he would ever be totally offline unless something happened to you and him both. Like you both died or something stupid like that.

AR: Hey, Dirk’s busy with something but if this doesn’t need his immediate attention you know I’m the next best thing.   
AR: ;)   
AR: Unlike Dirk, I’m perfectly adapted to talk to the pretty ladies.

You smirk to yourself and lean against the door of the WIP room, postponing your search for Dirk in exchange for talking to Jane though you know you can do both at the same time with very little interference. That’s the great thing about being a supercomputer. You know you can find Dirk whenever, though, and this gives him a change to come to you so you don’t look as eager to find him as you really are.

GG: Hoo hoo!   
GG: Why Mr. Hal, if I didn’t know any better I would swear you’re hitting on me!   
AR: You know me, beautiful women are my weak spot.   
AR: What’s up?   
GG: Nothing that requires immediate attention, I suppose.   
GG: I would hate to bother Dirk about it.   
GG: It’s just Lil’ Seb.   
AR: Oh no, what’s wrong with Lil’ Bunny Boo Boo?   
AR: Man, you know Seb and I are tight, Jane. That bunny is like my little brother.   
AR: We’re hella domestic with each other. Constantly chatting in binary code and shit.   
AR: I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to him.   
AR: What’s wrong with him?   
GG: Oh it’s nothing that bad I swear!   
GG: Nothing you have to worry about.   
GG: The little rascal is just getting into things he shouldn’t.   
AR: That mischievous little shit.   
AR: What’s he getting into?   
GG: Well, he seems to have taken quite a liking to small, dark spaces.   
GG: My dad flipped when he saw the holes in the couch the little thing ripped open so he could climb into the cushions!   
GG: I’ve had him confined to my room and now he’s burrowed in my clothing drawers.   
AR: Taken up resident with your unmentionables, I take it?   
GG: ...Maybe.   
AR: I’ll talk to Dirk about it. It might be a programming kink he can work out.   
GG: Thank you!   
GG: I hate keeping him locked up.   
AR: Don’t mention it. I’ll find Dirk and bring it up to him now.

\-- autoResponder [AR] has ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] !! --

That certainly sounded like Sebastian to you and it’s something you could easily fix yourself thanks to your wireless connection with all the bots, but Dirk made it quite clear he wanted to take care of all bot maintenance himself. You push yourself off the door and start down the hall again, glancing over your current chat with Roxy that hadn’t been responded to yet.

TG: *she arces up from the bed with a smal cry, her haert pounnding at his rough kisses and exploreing hands ;) she tanles her fingers his hair and maons right in his ear realy low and sexy lik to get him riled up* oh mr smith oh that fels good!   
AR: “Does it now?” he asked in a smooth tone as he leaned down to bite at the junction of her shoulder and neck. He spends a moment sucking at the spot, making sure to bruise the skin and mark her as his. Meanwhile, his hand slid further up her dress to finger the frills of her underwear in a teasing manner.   
TG: dman!   
TG: *damn   
TG: shits gtetin hot up in here   
TG: liek wow this is p heated   
TG: being 13 an all u ok w/this??   
AR: Please, Roxy. I’m the master of smut. Don’t you remember doing this shit when you were thirteen?   
AR: Besides, just because I’m an AI doesn’t mean I don’t learn and grow mentally.   
TG: oh tru!   
TG: alrigt if u say os   
TG: *so   
TG: i shoulnt rp while drunk   
AR: Probably not, but it’s cool.

She hasn’t answered back in a few minutes so you assume she’s formulating a response. Without anything else to do you resume your search for Dirk. As soon as you pass near his room, Roxy’s reply flashes on your screen.

TG: yea *she mubmles against his ear realy breathleess and stuff* ah! *the bite wow thats p fuckin hot it makes her cry out again and lean her whole body into him, totes eager and shit like wow she really wants the d how about giginv it to her now?*   
TG: *mumbles   
TG: shit i thoguth i proofread that one   
TG: righ ok i totes get proofraed right   
TG: omfg

You start on an answer but stop halfway through, pausing outside of Dirk’s door and frowning as a noise distracts you. It sounded like a low groan and your brows furrow at the sound. You don’t barge into Dirk’s room but you move closer to the door and rest your hand on the knob, trying to figure out the situation and if you’re needed or not. You have a pretty good idea what’s going on, though. 

“Ah... F-Fuck, c’mon...” 

Yeah, that’s exactly what’s going on. You drop your hand from the knob and crinkle your nose, about to turn and walk away when a second voice stops you. 

“No, don’t speed up Strider! I said do it slowly.” 

You’re frowning again and moving closer to the door. You’ve never heard the voice before, but the cheesy as fuck accent that you’re 97.83% sure is faked tells you exactly who’s talking and the grainy quality of the voice that you can pick up even through the door let’s you know they’re on webcam. 

Dirk is having cam sex with Jake.

It explains why the rhythm of the house is broken and why Dirk’s pesterchum was logged off. Hard to get your groove on with people messaging you constantly.

The situation makes your stomach twist, though, and you’re quick to turn around and head back for the living room so you can finish your reply to Roxy. You don’t like the warm, unpleasant feeling in your gut so you distracted yourself by fixing Lil’ Seb’s programming so the rascal isn’t burrowing through Jane’s underwear anymore then you pick back up where you left off in 3001: The Final Odyssey while answering Roxy back whenever she messages. The distractions are successful and you end up losing track of time until you hear Dirk digging around the kitchen for his stuff. 

You close out of the book and stand to meet him.

“Sup. Is now a good time for our fishing lesson?” 

He glances over at you as he slings the rod over his shoulder and with a short sigh, nods yes. “Sure, might as well get this over with. It’s not like you can’t look up tutorials online, though, seriously.” You’re blocking his way out of the kitchen and he stands there staring at you expectantly. You stare back, waiting for him to gush about finally getting Jake or confess why he’s catching dinner later than usual. He doesn’t say a word and after a moment of staring he huffs and pushes past you.

It stings a little. You’re used to him popping up and messaging you the second something happens. With a frown you follow him towards the staircase to the roof, listening as his voice echoes off the concrete walls. 

“Once you get this down I’ll leave you to it and go down to grab some seaweed. Figured I’ll make a salad tonight to go with the fish.”

You hum to show you’re listening and when he doesn’t say anything else on the matter, you feel it’s safe to talk. “Jane messaged.” 

“Oh? What’d she say?”

You open your mouth to inform him of Seb’s behavior--honestly, you have every intention to tell him about it. But that’s not what comes out. “Relationship problems. You know she has that huge crush on Jake and wanted someone to vent to about it. Apparently he was acting really distant earlier this morning towards her. I told her it was just a Jake thing, he does that all the time. Probably too busy dreaming about new booty shorts and blue chicks.”

Dirk’s steps falter for a minute before he picks back up like nothing happened, his voice nonchalant and calm. “Yeah, probably.”

That’s all he says on the matter as you two step out into the sunlight on the roof. It’s pretty fucking hot outside in the middle of summer but the heat doesn’t bother you as much as does Dirk. You know the Jane thing bothers Dirk as well. He values his friendship and taking away Jane’s chance at Jake was always an issue he struggled with. His face is expressionless but you have no doubt he’s feeling guilty.

You don’t feel guilty for lying to him.

In fact, you feel satisfied that he’s feeling bad and a small smirk plays on your lips as you two get on the hoverboard and descend for the lower tiers of the apartment, closer to the water so a line could actually be cast. Your triumph is clouded when an incoming message flashes across your screen and you frown. 

\-- Guest413 [??] started pestering autoResponder [AR] !! --

AR: Yo, sup.   
AR: Who the hell are you?

\-- Guest413 [??] stopped pestering autoResponder [AR] !! --

Weird, for sure, but not memorable. As soon as you and Dirk land on the bottom crossbeam of the building you push the strange message from your thoughts and concentrate on Dirk’s distracted instructions.

There’s no doubt about it, you definitely feel shitty. 

Of course you knew about Jane’s crush and honestly, it was one of the main reasons you didn’t outright confess your feelings for Jake. You knew you had a pretty good chance with him but taking that away from Jane didn’t seem right. 

That morning you had no intention of confessing either, but Jake happened to put two and two together and blatantly told you the answer was four. He had figured it out after all the hints and subtle flirting that actually wasn’t very subtle at all and there was no way you were going to lie to him about it. Shit just got better from there and before Jane was mentioned, you were feeling pretty damn good about yourself and your situation.

Now you’re reminded why you didn’t go for it in the first place.

Instead of going out and collecting seaweed like you wanted, you sit there watching Hal bait the hook and gracefully sling it into the water. Things are silent besides the ever-present gulls that have the horrible habit of shitting on everything. You swear you can hear Squarewave on the roof trying to instigate a rap battle with Sawtooth--one he’s bound to get his ass kicked in but that doesn’t stop him from trying. 

The silence stretches on until Hal clears his throat and you actually focus in. 

“You seem upset about something. Is it the Jane thing?”

You’re reluctant to answer just like you were reluctant to tell Hal about your new relationship status. He used to be your go-to bot for everything because literally the only thing he could do was sit there and listen. It was easy talking to a pair of shades with no expression and no way to show disdain or annoyance at your problems. Having a full-bodied person in front of you was more difficult but your lack of an answered seemed to be answer enough for him. 

“Seriously dude, don’t worry about it. In the end it’s Jake’s decision anyway and there’s nothing you can do about that. You shouldn’t feel like you’re taking Jake away from Jane if he doesn’t like her that way in the first place. Besides, you never know when she’ll confess her feelings for him. I mean, she’s been suspecting that you like the dude so that’s pretty unlikely to happen, but you never know and then she’ll be the one with him and you’ll be stuck here. It’s all up to Jake so stop feeling guilty for crushing on the guy.”

Logically the words made sense. It’s not your fault Jake picked you. 

But your mind still screams that you’re a shitty friend. You know Jake being Jake would have said yes to her if she confessed first. He’s the type of dude to give everyone a chance regardless of how he feels about them. You still feel like you cheated Jane somehow. It’s not a feeling you like and, thinking it wise to talk to someone about it, force yourself to talk to Hal. 

“I already won Jake, though, so Jane doesn’t really have a change,” you mutter.

Hal glances over at you before a tug on the line has him looking back out to sea and carefully reeling in whatever he hooked. “Really now? When did that happen?” 

“This morning. He guessed correctly and said he would give it a shot. I like to think it’s going well so far.” 

Of course it’s going well, you just spent the last half-an-hour watching him jerk himself on web cam.

God that had been hot.

“Well shit, you failed to mention that to me.” Hal had indeed hooked a fish. A small brown one that wiggled and flopped on it’s hook in the dry air. He watched it for a second before looking over at you. “I would let Jane know, then. Just don’t tell her I mentioned anything about her messages to you. Like I said, she’s been suspecting you had a crush on him for awhile and told me not to mention anything. I would hate to break her trust, y’know?” 

You nod, your lips pressed into a thin line at the thought of having to tell her. You feel bad about it but Hal’s right, she’s your friend and deserves to know you just landed her biggest crush.

Though you’re certainly going to leave out the part where you watched him touch his dick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk loses a boyfriend because Hal's a manipulative bastard. But is there reasoning behind Hal's behavior?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Alert: Yes.
> 
> Oh my god the chapters just keep getting longer. My characterization is horrible. I feel bad for all people suffering through this and it's only going to get worse. Why are you even reading this? Go read a good fanfiction. Oh, also the rating is probably going to up next chapter because they'll be smut. I know what you all must be thinking: FINALLY.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] started pestering timeausTestified [TT] !! --

GT: Strider!  
GT: Are you there?

You’re playing SB&HJ: The Vibeo Gaem when the message comes in, blinking across your shades although the visual alert is hardly needed. You close out of it without pausing the game, transferring the whole chat into the virtual part of your mind so your game play is clear. Dirk is forty-three minutes into his shower meaning he won’t be available for some time. Your instructions are to contact Dirk immediately and inform him if Jake messages and then he’ll determine if he’s busy or not. But there’s no way you’re going to interrupt his shower for this when you can handle it just fine.

Regardless, when you answer back you do it from Dirk’s account just in case he gets pissy with you for talking to him. You’ll just reveal that he’s been speaking to the auto-responder the whole time when Dirk comes out of the shower.

TT: Yeah, hey what’s up?  
GT: Oh nothing much! I was just wondering if youre busy?  
TT: Not busy enough to keep from chatting but my hands are full so I can’t get on webcam.  
GT: Ah i see.  
GT: Heh. *tugs at his shirt collar uneasily.*  
GT: Was my intention really that transparent then?  
TT: Crystal fucking clear but I’m not complaining. Getting frustrated without your daily dose of Strider dick?  
GT: Oh galloping walruses when you put it like that it seems downright lude!  
GT: I merely got into a tussle with that blasted contraption of yours and im feeling a bit...  
GT: Tense.  
GT: That bot gets downright touchy sometimes!  
TT: That’s sort of the point.  
GT: You mean you programmed it that way???  
TT: Of course. Why else do you think I sent it?  
TT: The toughening up shit was a line of bull. You’re on an island full of monsters, I’m pretty sure it’s either toughen up or die and you’ve survived this long.  
TT: I mainly sent the bot to collect information.

You’re lying and it takes you a moment to realize it. The bot was indeed programmed to be a little touchy, but that had been by you not Dirk. Unless Jake had mentioned it before, Dirk was completely unaware of Brobot’s somewhat affectionate nature when put on novice. You have no intention of telling him about it later and can only hope Jake doesn’t mention it again after this conversation.

GT: Well that seems fishy indeed!  
GT: And you didnt think to warn me of this ahead of time??  
TT: It would ruin the results of the data. Anyway, it’s not important.  
TT: I figured you would enjoy it, if not then just take him off novice mode.  
GT: It just seems really underhanded to send your best bro a molesting robot.  
TT: It was a way to get my feelings across to you. If you get comfortable with the thought of a robot-lookalike of me touching you then I have less to worry about when you finally find out about my feelings.  
TT: See?  
GT: I...suppose?

You hear the bathroom door open and purse your lips, never taking your eyes from the TV screen as your fingers fly across the buttons on the controller. Looks like you’ll have to cut the conversation short.

TT: Anyway, I’m busy and you’re not really entertaining me right now.  
TT: I’ll message you tomorrow or something.

\-- timeausTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] !! --

You make sure to delete the log as Dirk walks in wearing nothing but a pair of orange sweatpants with a towel slung over his shoulder. His hair is still wet as he throws himself down on the couch and stretches out with his feet in your lap. You make a face but don’t bother pushing him off. Sometimes he would do that; casual touching. He would bump your shoulder as you passed in the hallway or sit close enough that he could feel your machinery producing what felt like body heat. You never complained because you honestly enjoyed the casual touching and sometimes felt like he only did it for your benefit. 

“Did anyone message while I was in the shower?” he asks after a second of cooling down. 

You nod. “Jake did. But it was just to let you know he’ll be busy today and he’ll message you tomorrow. I didn’t think it warranted your attention.” 

You glance sideways at him to see him frowning. “Guess it’s just you and me then. Is this two player?” You nod.

“Yeah. Grab the other control. We can both glitch this bitch out.” 

Dirk’s disappointed look soon disappears and without Roxy or Jane messaging, you and him have a pretty nice evening playing through shitty renditions of Dave’s movies. The graphics are horrible and the controls are jerky but it’s the best thing ever. In the end you two just sit there trading empty insults and you don’t regret lying to Dirk about Jake’s reason for messaging.

Unfortunately the good times don’t last. Jake quickly becomes the primary focus in Dirk’s life and soon you get knocked back to nothing more than an answering machine.

Dirk ignores you for the most part. His free time is spent locked in his room either chatting with Jake or on web cam; it’s not only for sexual things but casual face-to-face conversation. The rare times you do see Dirk is when Jake isn’t online. Then he’ll come chill with you and watch a movie while you’re reading or he’ll offer to play video games. Otherwise he’s out getting food if you haven’t already or he’s in the shower. You’ve noticed he hardly ever frowns now that he’s in a relationship with Jake and while you’re happy about that, you’re also pretty damn bitter.

He never seems to have time for you anymore.

When Jake isn’t available, you’re just the second option and even then, he’ll never shut up about Jake.

“He was telling me about yesterday when he went out to collect some herbs that grow on the north side of the island.”

“Hmm.” 

“I guess something happened and the stupid fucker tripped over a tree root and shot another tinkerbull. You should have seen his face, he looked so god damn guilty over this one little cow fairy thing.”

“Interesting.” 

“To make matters worse, he actually had to stand up and show me exactly how he fell and he almost fell down the staircase to his room. Oh shit! That reminds me, want to hear about the time he tried to do a legit double pistols and wink?”

“Yes.”

You go along with it, but it annoys the shit out of you. You want to shake him and just scream in his face. No one fucking cares about what Jake did or said. The story would have been multitudes funnier if Jake had actually taken a crash down the god damn stairs. At least then you could have made a SB&HJ reference and add just a hint of irony to the situation. Instead you sit there silently and stew with anger and something else. Something that you’ve been feeling a lot lately but can’t quite place. It’s a dark, writhing feeling in the pit of your stomach and it pops up whenever Dirk mentions Jake with that stupid, love-struck smile that you want to punch off his face. It’s a feeling you get whenever Dirk is busy and Jake’s message flashes up on your screen. It’s a feeling that, despite all your advancement, you can’t put a name to. 

You’ve learned how to deal with it, though. 

When Jake messages, you pretend to be Dirk. Sometimes you let something too “technical” slip and he guesses it’s you and makes a federal fucking issue out of it. Other times he’s convinced you’re Dirk the whole time and you act like a rude little shit to him every second of the chat. 

Dirk never confronted you about it. You assumed it’s because Jake is the type of person to ignore a problem and never bring it up. You’re glad because it allowed you to continue your game longer and the nastier you were to Jake the better you felt inside. The black, writhing monster living in your gut seemed sated by your manipulative actions and for a few moments you would feel better. Never once did you feel guilty for doing it, either.

Even when you started hearing more fights than conversations over web cam, you didn’t feel guilty.

You didn’t regret a thing when Dirk started frowning again.

In fact, you didn’t connect your actions to Dirk’s feelings at all. It was Jake’s fault for starting fights with Dirk. It was his fault Dirk was frowning so much. Jake was an asshole as you had known all along. It really didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that out when every time he knew you were posing as Dirk, he would make shitty comments about how you were nothing but a machine and he wanted to talk to the “Real Dirk”. You hated that. Whenever you mentioned that he was saying some pretty offensive things, he would just come back with a, “Who cares! You’re a machine, you don’t feel anything.” 

You could certainly feel homicidal rage and the urge to kill one stupid, carbon-based life form, that was for sure.

You never really question your actions or your feelings, though. Not until the day you pass by Dirk’s room and hear a couple choice, angry words coming from Dirk do you realize that the ugly, black feeling isn't around whenever you overhear a fight. Frowning to yourself, you go into the living room and sit down, suddenly more curious than you were before regarding the mysterious emotion. You have never really stopped to analyze it in-depth, always thinking it's just a thing that had to do with your budding resentment of Jake. But you realized when passing Dirk’s door and overhearing his fight you had felt almost satisfied. 

It dawns on you that the feeling is something you're unfamiliar with because it's something you have never felt before. It's jealousy. 

You're jealous that Jake is getting Dirk’s attention. 

A few seconds later your nonexistent stomach drops when you realize just why you're jealous of Jake.

Finally your computer dings with a message.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] started pestering timeausTestified [TT] !! --

GT: Listen dirk.  
GT: I think its about time we talked.  
TT: Hey I was wondering when you were going to message me.  
TT: What’s up? Is there something wrong?  
GT: Yes theres something very wrong!  
GT: Look i dont mean to diss a good bro of mine and ive certainly enjoyed these past few months dont get me wrong.  
GT: But dear lord i cant handle the mood swings anymore!  
TT: What?  
GT: I talk to you one day and everything is peaches and rainbows with you.  
GT: We laugh and have a grand ol time!  
GT: And then the next day youre suddenly nothing but a big ball of anger and stress.  
GT: God forbid i get a little aggravated back at you because then it starts a fight and you act like im not allowed to be annoyed when in earlier chats you just sit there acting like an asshole.  
GT: Youre a grand friend dirk really you are.  
GT: But i dont think this whole relationship thing is going to work out when im constantly being criticized and insulted when youre upset at something and then when i get upset you turn everything around on me.  
GT: Now i might be wrong but i dont quite think thats very gentlemanly of you dirk.  
TT: Whoa whoa whoa, hold the fucking phone Jake.  
TT: Are you breaking up with me?  
GT: Yes im afraid i am.  
GT: Im sorry dirk.  
GT: We can still be the best of friends though!  
TT: This isn’t adding up. When have I ever insulted you or acted like an asshole?  
TT: Okay, I’ll admit we can have some pretty heated fights sometimes but that’s when you start acting pissed off at me and refuse to talk to me about it.  
TT: You’re saying you’re always pissed off because of me?  
GT: Why wouldnt i be??  
GT: You can be a right rude bugger for no reason when you want to be.  
TT: This is making as much sense as Inception did, and you and I both know that movie was shit in terms of a clear and concise plotline.  
TT: When have I been rude to you for no reason?  
GT: Ill send you the logs if you dont believe it then.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] sent timeausTestified [TT] a file: logs.doc !! --

TT: ...  
GT: Do you see what i mean now?  
GT: I cant handle the sudden shifts in your personality that you dont even have the courtesy to realize!  
TT: Jake, I never said those things.  
GT: Impossible theyre right there in the bloody log!  
GT: Dont even try that whole deniability thing!  
TT: I’m telling you, those messages weren’t sent by me. I don’t remember any of those conversations and on some of the dates I went the whole day without talking to you.  
GT: What??  
GT: Thats obviously a fabrication!  
GT: Unless someone was posing as yo  
GT: Oh my god.  
TT: Yes.  
GT: Ar.  
TT: That’s what it looks like.  
GT: I should have known!  
TT: Shit, Jake, I am so sorry. I had no fucking clue he was messing with my chats.  
TT: I’ve given him clear instructions to pass all your messages immediately over to me regardless what I was doing.  
GT: No im sorry i should have realized it wasnt you saying such nonsense.  
GT: I feel terribly rotten right now.  
TT: I’ll have a talk with him and get this shit sorted out ASAP. Are we good now?  
GT: ...  
GT: Dirk i dont quite think you realize how much i absolutely HATE not knowing when im talking to the real you or not.  
GT: Even right now its like is this dirk or another of ars ploys??  
GT: Im sure its you this time of course but the fact i always have to question who im talking to is bloody ridonkulous!  
GT: I really hate to say this but i think it would still be a good idea to end this.  
GT: When im talking to someone im in a relationship i shouldnt have to doubt them and analyze them to see who im really talking to.  
GT: There just seem to be too many fake dirks and i can never find the real one!  
TT: I understand.  
GT: So youre alright with that?  
TT: Yeah. I’m cool with it.  
TT: I have to go talk to Hal.

\-- timeausTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] !! --

You sit there for a second after you log out of Pesterchum, too stunned to really do anything besides stare at your computer. It’s hard for you to picture your own auto-responder posing as you and ruining your relationship in such an obvious way. Sure, Hal had seemed a little distant and uninterested lately, but would he really sit there as you and, knowing full well Jake would blame you, insult him and act like a dick? You don’t really want to believe it but there’s one thing for sure, your relationship with Jake is over and you’re pissed. The more you sit there thinking about it, the more anger you build up until you literally cannot sit still. 

You get up and head to the living room where Hal is sitting on the couch. 

He’s still in that body suit though he claims it’s because he likes the style, not because the touch of clothing bothers him. His shades are lit up and from behind him you can just make out the scroll of words. He’s taken to reading books visually, slowly going over every word and enjoying them instead of absorbing the knowledge. It’s a very human act though based on certain behavior patterns--mainly the ones you’re just now aware of--he’s nowhere close to human. 

You clear your throat and he looks up, the shades returning to their dark color. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Jake broke up with me,” you state in a carefully neutral voice. 

He frowns and stands up. “Shit, really?” He actually sounds concerned; you have to give him credit for that. “I’ve heard you two fighting recently but I didn’t think it was anything that bad. Want to talk about it?” 

You shake your head and start walking to his side of the couch, your steps measured and almost predatory. You watch as Hal tilts his head, taking notice of the weight and length in your stride. His brows furrow and he takes a step back when you finally round to his side. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Hal. I know you’ve been messaging with him from my account.”

“Have I?” 

He senses your hostility and with every step you take forward, he takes a defensive one back. It works until he backs himself against the wall and you’re standing right in front of him, your lips twisted into snarl. He’s expressionless, showing neither pride at having achieved his twisted goal--because breaking you two up had surely been the plan--or fear at your anger. 

“Yes, you have. Jake showed me the damn logs. The ones that you deleted because I’ve been through your logs and there are none involving Jake. Meaning you deceived me on purpose and covered your tracks well enough that I wouldn’t find out right away. You just forgot to calculate Jake into your fucking equations.” 

He’s silent for a second and then he mutters a simple, “I see.” 

“No I don’t fucking think you do!” Your voice is raising but you’re angry. You’re seething and you don’t care how shitty of a job you’re doing at covering it up. “I finally had him and because of you and your god damn manipulations he’s gone! Things were going great until you butted your nose into my shit and wrecked it. What, giving you a body wasn’t enough? You want everything I have or something? Is that what this is about? You’re not me enough so you’re breaking up my relationship and hoping that, what? He’ll just jump into your arms?” 

You’re shaking with anger but Hal calmly straightens his back and shakes his head. “That’s not what I was hoping.” 

He’s so completely unfazed that you feel like choking him and watching him writhe as programs kicked in to make him feel like he's dying. In fact, that’s what you do. Your hand darts out as you step closer, fingers closing in around his throat as you push him back hard against the wall, enough to make him wince and gasp before you cut it off by squeezing hard enough to block his trachea. His hands instinctively come up to grab your wrist and with his strength you know he could easily pull you off. He doesn’t. He just grips your wrist and inhales through his mouth what little air he can. 

You want to see him writhe and choke. You want to see him panic. He does neither.

You know what will make him panic, though. With your free hand you snatch his shades off his face and squeeze them with the same pressure you’re keeping on his neck. The edge of the frames cut into your hand and when you apply enough pressure to make your hand bleed a crack cuts across the surface of the shades.

Hal chokes out a panicked, “No!” 

The shades no longer house his consciousness--that’s solely stored in the head of his body--but the shades act as a quick kill-switch. If they’re destroyed then all data stored in the body is wiped. There’s no way you’re stupid enough to make a bodied entity of steel more powerful than you without giving it a weakness. You made sure he understood that too. 

The background programs making him feel threatened coupled with the real threat is making him flip. There’s actual fear on his face as he claws at your wrist, not hard enough to pull you off but enough that you know he’s more than uncomfortable. You add a few more cracks to the shades, ignoring the stinging pain and blood on your hand as you do so. 

“Don’t! Pl-Please!” 

“Why did you do it?” You loosen your grip on his throat enough for him to suck in a couple of quick, deep breaths that were completely needless.

When he doesn’t answer right away you add another crack to the shades, carefully controlling the pressure so you don’t snap them right away. If you needed to, you could draw this out and honestly, you’re pissed enough you could do it. You could go through with it and kill him. He’s gone rogue anyway by not obeying your orders. He’s going against his programming and turning against you. 

He whines and it makes your lip curl. He’s supposed to be based off your cognition yet he’s acting this pathetic at the prospect of dying? You would at least go out fighting. You’re surprised he hasn’t used force to stop you when he could easily overpower you. Maybe he knows you would crush the shades if he tried. Either way, you want your answer.

“Why.”

He’s still silent and you’re about to tighten your hand further on the shades when he blurts, “Because I love you,” and you pause and frown. He jumps on your hesitation and continues, “I was jealous, okay? You were giving all your fucking time to Jake and I wanted you to pay attention to me. I was jealous of him because he was getting your love and I wasn’t and it’s because I’m in love with you. I’m sorry just please don’t disconnect me. I don’t want to die, Dirk. Please.” 

He looks like he’s about to start begging any minute and honestly, you’re not sure what to think anymore. His confession could be a ruse for you to pity him and, unfortunately, it works. You feel your anger slip away and you struggle to maintain it but in the end you drop your hand from his neck and let the bloodied shades fall to the floor. Hal stands there shaking and staring at the cracked lenses at his feet. 

“You’re a narcissistic fucker,” you finally mutter with the last bit of rage you’re holding onto. You turn and start back for your room, tossing, “Stay out of my affairs,” over your shoulder in a warning tone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal makes Dirk get over the whole, "You broke Jake and I up!" with a hand job. And a blow job. Meanwhile, I pussy out of writing any actual smut for yet another chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I suck so badly at writing smut. Besides, even without details this chapter was long so I might make this fic a chapter longer than planned and add in more smut and fluff and shit. But thanks to people that are commenting on this! You guys are breaking my heart, really.

Ever since your mental breakdown and Hal’s confession, things have been tense in the small apartment. You spend most of your time going about your daily activities and trying to patch up your friendship with Jake while Hal hangs out on the roof and feeds leftover fish to the seagulls. You two haven’t talked much and when you do, it’s short and to the point. He informs you when you have a message if you’re too busy to see the notification and that’s pretty much it.

You’re still angry that he butted in and destroyed your relationship with Jake but Hal’s distance doesn’t make you as happy as it should.

Having someone else with you in the apartment was something that took a lot of getting used to but it was something you had come to enjoy. When no one was online you had someone to talk to. Video games didn’t consist of you sitting through the same shit for hours, bored out of your mind because you knew all the courses by heart; there was a competition. You had someone to strife with. You had someone to sit next to in complete silence and should you ever have something to say there was a living entity that you could turn and voice your thoughts to.

You’re still mad.

You really sort of miss his companionship, though.

That doesn’t mean you’re going to give in. You’re not going to apologize for threatening him. You’re not going to start talking to him as if he didn’t do anything wrong. And you’re certainly not going to pity him because he was supposedly in love with you.

You’re nearly positive that had been a lie to throw you off anyway. Hal is based completely off your neurological profile meaning his mindset is the same as yours. You’re not narcissistic enough to be in love with yourself and even though circumstances have changed his personality from its original design, you hardly think it’s possible the deviation could be so large. He should know better than to fuck with you like that and the kicked puppy act isn’t working.

Not at all.

Okay maybe you feel a little bit shitty, but when is that new?

The whole thing just made you think. If Hal is based off your mind does that mean you would be the jealous type to break up people close to you just because you’re in love with one of them? Would you really use sneaky, underhanded manipulation to achieve your goals at your friends’ expense? The logical answers to those questions didn’t sit well with you so you denied it to yourself.

You wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t stoop to Hal’s level just because you could.

But if you wouldn’t do that and Hal did, what does that say about the level of difference between your two personalities? Did that really mean Hal was being independent of your thinking? Did that mean it really was possible for him to be in love with you without feeling like he was in love with himself?

You sit at your computer desk pondering those thoughts and gently turning your chair back and forth, your head tilted back and your lips pursed. Thinking of all the possibilities was giving you a headache but whenever you tried distracting yourself the thoughts would find a way to sneak back in and root into your brain, demanding answers that you, infuriatingly, didn’t have. You’re stressed out and you don’t want to think but you can’t stop and it’s annoying you even further than the lack of answers does.

Then you realize what part of your problem is. 

You haven’t had any sort of release since you broke up with Jake. Usually jacking off was something you did fairly often due to teenage hormones but after all of these issues started popping up, shit like that was pushed out of your mind. Medically speaking, a little foreplay every now and then keeps you from getting tense and jittery like you are now. You’re not particularly in the mood but you figure it’s worth a shot if it chases away your current thoughts. 

With a sigh you log yourself off Pesterchum and look for some plain, vanilla sex online you can get off to--after all, you’re doing this clinically not for any real personal enjoyment. You’ll save the kinky stuff for when you’re in the mood to be a little more daring.

You find a suitable video, unbutton your pants and fish your dick out, languidly stroking it to stir up interest as the video starts.

Porn is boring. Just watching two people have sex isn’t all that interesting, especially if you’ve seen a lot of it because in the end it’s all the same shit. The real fun is when you image you know the people. Or when you imagine you’re the one in the video. You’re lucky the video features a lanky blonde getting dominated by a muscular brunette because it makes the whole imagination process a hell of a lot easier. You lean back, breaths coming out harder as your dick twitches to your ministrations. You’re about half hard when the sound of a voice makes you jump. 

“Need some help with that?” 

“Shit!” You didn’t even hear the fucker come in. Turning your chair around, you direct a glare towards Hal as your video plays out. “Dude, learn to knock. It’s rude barging in on someone’s personal time.” 

He’s standing there with a stoic expression besides the questioning eyebrow he has raised over his crack-free shades--He fixed them the day you broke them and it has never been spoken of again. 

“You tell me to knock yet you don’t frantically shove your dick back in your boxers. You’re just going to sit there with it hanging out while I stand here and potentially stare at it?” 

You can see his eyes from behind his shades thanks to the light direction and he’s looking at your face, not your penis. You shrug anyway. “Why should I bother putting it away when you have the same damn one tucked away in your body suit? Your dick is literally a model copy of mine. It’s the same fucking dick, why would I be self-conscious about you seeing it?” 

His expression breaks into an amused smirk and he leans forward against the back of your chair. “I’m surprised you didn’t make mine smaller to make yourself feel better.”

“I’m not really ashamed of my dick size so I see no need to masculate myself by belittling someone else. Besides, Jake’s pretty fucking big but watching him act like an awkward virgin on cam reminded me that it’s not about your size, it’s about what you do with it and I know damn well I have more skill than he does.” 

It’s the first time Jake has been brought up in conversation and you watch his expression carefully. There’s no reaction. Not even a flicker of guilt. You hadn’t really expecting anything, though, so you’re not very disappointed. He just stares at you deadpan before asking, “What about my offer?”

You frown. “What offer?”

“To help.”

“With what?” 

Hal sighs deeply, like your question causes him eternal suffering before he gestures vaguely at your still exposed crotch. “That.” 

You immediately turn your chair completely towards your desk, forcing Hal to stand up straight and stop leaning against the back rest for a minute. “No thanks, I’m fine. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, but please make sure it closes completely.” 

There are no footsteps indicating he’s walked away so after a minute you take a cautionary glance over your shoulder and sure enough, he’s still standing there with an amused smirk on his face. You roll your eyes, seconds from repeating your request but he successfully silences that by throwing his arms over your shoulders, one palm laying flat against your chest and the other on your arm. He leans in close and you freeze as his nose brushes along your jaw. 

“C’mon, what’s the harm?” 

“I said no, first of all. Second of all I don’t want you touching my dick so step off.” Your words are firm but you’re kind of having mixed feelings on the subject already. You’re by no means a weak man and your years of isolation have certainly not made you needy for human contact. However, your time with Hal has reminded you that a little physical contact is really nice. Before things got fucked up, you would make contact with him on purpose; little things that could easily be passed off as accidents or casual everyday occurrences with someone you’re close to. The distance between you two effectively cut that off and having him just touching you was relaxing. 

It was tempting. But it would mean admitting defeat that you didn’t want to do that yet.

His hand slides down your chest a few inches and you feel his lips brush against your neck in a teasing gesture. “You’re usually so clinical when it comes to this. You just get it over with and move on. You would think, being the actual robot, the clinical one would be me. Why not sit back and enjoy yourself? Or is the taboo of not only doing it with a robot but doing it with your robot clone a little too much for you?” His lips press against your neck in a few firm kisses and you huff out an irate sigh. 

“Fine.” 

You can feel him smirk against your neck and you grudgingly tip your head the side so he has more room to continue his kisses. You’ll only admit this to yourself, but after so long of doing this with your hand, the extra stimulation was nice. Hal’s hand wraps around your dick and gives it a couple slow stroke and, the light dotting of kisses further reminds you that it isn’t your hand touching you. It was physically because that hand was an exact copy of yours but it was a hand not connected to your arm and not under your control. 

You close your eyes, relax, and let Hal do all the work.

After that there’s a subtle shift in the household. 

At first you didn’t think much about it. Ever since the Jake problem the air in the house had seemed tense and uncomfortable with you and Hal tip-toeing around each other. You assumed the shift was just the tension disappearing and things slowly returning to normal. Hal didn’t avoid you and you no longer went out of your way to avoid him. You talked to him more and made an honest attempt at casual conversation. Slowly, things were settling over. Hal was behaving himself and you weren’t going to hold a grudge.

But soon you realized there was more to it than that. 

For the most part, you and him always did different things. While you went about your daily schedule, Hal went about a completely different one. As far you could tell, his days consisted of reading quietly, fucking around online, video games, and helping you out with some chores around the house. He stayed out of your way even when you were on good terms with him. 

Ever since you allowed him to jack you off, (which, though you would never admit, was actually the most enjoyment you've ever gotten from masturbation including when you were watching Jake over web cam) Hal has hardly left your side. 

When you're working on a weapons upgrade for Sawtooth, he's right behind you, shades off and his eerie, red and black eyes analyzing your every move. He starts suggesting different wires to use and handing you tools before you even realize you need them. That quickly settles into a pattern and before a full week has passed he's proven himself a valued coworker. And it seems like every time he hands you something he makes sure his fingers brush yours. You pretend you don't notice. 

He still catches meals for you so you don't have to bother with it, but when you're cooking he's right behind you, making himself busy by getting out the dishes you'll need and other various spices and herbs you use to make the bland, gritty fish a little more flavorful. Every time he walks past you, his shoulder brushes yours. You don't comment on it.

When he passes you in the hallway, his arm bumps against yours and your hand brushes his. Hal's fault, of course. When you sit down on the couch to chill he always sits close enough that you can feel his body heat. 

You don't mention it. You don't question it. But you wonder. 

The more you think about it the more you speculate that he might have actually been telling the truth. He might actually be in love with you. The thought sets you on edge for some unexplainable reason so you don't bring it up to him. You know it's something you should really talk about, just like you had to regretfully inform Jane of your relationship with Jake--though you did go through Hal's logs and noticed that Jane had never mentioned her crush on Jake, so rushing to smooth over the issue with her hadn't been as big of a deal as you thought and considering how the relationship went, it was something you probably didn't need to bring to her attention at all. 

All the more reason to ignore whatever was going on with Hal.

Unfortunately, Hal had other plans.

You've just finished eating breakfast and putting the plate in the sink when Hal rounds the corner into the kitchen and pauses, as if he's surprised to see you. You give him a curt nod and a tired-sounding, "'Morning," because you were up half the night working out a problem with Brobot and it's way too early for you to even feign interest.

Hal just hums in return and you go to walk past him, hopefully without bumping into him for once, when he actually speaks. "It seems you've forgotten what I offered last week." 

It's an offhanded comment, but you pause on your way out of the kitchen and glance over your shoulder to see him looking at you. Or at least you think he's looking at you, he has his shades on so it's hard to tell. "Offer?" You didn't forget. The very notion that you forgot is ludicrous and he knows that. You still play dumb. 

He plays along. "If I remember correctly, I offered to be a tension reliever. You seemed to enjoy it last week and what's the harm in fooling around a little? It's not like there's anyone out here to judge you for fucking around with a robot."

Android, not robot, you mentally correct him. He's not a robot, he's a piece of highly advanced technology and the epitome of your creative genius. He's not heap of scrap mental welded together into a working form like Sawtooth and Squarewave, he's a living machine made to mimic the human body as realistically as possible. Naturally you don't say any of that or it would just inflate the fucker's already giant ego. You also don't bother to mention that there is someone around to judge you and that would be him. Asking Hal to "relieve your tension" would be admitting defeat and losing to him during a strife was bad enough, but you refuse to lose to him in a psychological battle.

"I don't need your help in that area, I'm pretty sure I have firm control of my dick," you tell him plainly. "Your hand is exactly the same as mine."

He smirks and there's something almost downright lewd about it that has you frowning and narrowing your eyes at him from behind your own shades.

"Sure, my hand is the same as yours but I can do more than jack you off." He shrugs but that smirk stays on his face and the action is anything but nonchalant. It's calculated and cocky. "Did you forget I don't have a gag reflex?" 

The corner of your right eye twitches slightly.

He doesn't have a gag reflex. You specifically built him without one but it had been a purely functional design for him, not something for you to take advantage of later. You had yet to figure out a way to get his body to store water like a normal person. Hal didn't have saliva though he did have a throat and lungs. The throat ended after a certain point, a little ways after his windpipe branched off and like a normal human, when he swallowed on reflex it would close to keep any substances out of his lungs. However, if Hal swallowed any liquids by accident, it would sit there in the bottom of his throat and run the risk of molding. The lack of a gag reflex allowed him to dry out anything down there without feeling uncomfortable. 

For you, his lack of a gag reflex was purely clinical. 

Coming from him it was definitely sexual. 

You don't answer and he takes a step forward, his smirk only widening until he's standing right in front of you with one finger hooked in the front of your jeans. There's no doubt that you're wide awake now, watching him carefully while evaluating your choices.

Before he can open his mouth, you raise an eyebrow and give him a disapproving frown. "Well? Are you going to stand there or are you going suck my dick?" 

It was never your intention to agree but if you keep telling him no he'll keep pressuring you and this way you're asserting your dominance. You're not losing because you're in control and he's the one doing what you want. Still, his self-assured smirk as he gets down on his knees annoys the fuck out of you and you make a mental note to wipe it off his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something evidently wrong about Guest413, Dirk is obviously in denial, and Roxy has a little emergency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I barely edited this chapter because I'm exhausted and falling asleep, so I'm sorry for mistakes. I'm also sorry for not updating often, school got back in and I've been busy with shit loads of homework. On that note, thank you for the kind reviews! And to answer some of the comments: 
> 
> superduper--Nah, don't worry about it you're a sweetheart! <3 I'm glad you're liking it.
> 
> CarcinoInflection--I'm sorry. That's all I have to say. I'm so very, very sorry. Your best bet is to forget you ever saw that tag.
> 
> queenyanna18--Don't worry, no spoilers, but they won't be playing SBURB in this one. Wait, does that count as a spoiler? Meh.

When you leave the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants with your hair still sticking damply to your head, a cloud of steam followers you. The ventilation system in there is wrecked so unless you want to die of heat stroke, you can’t really sit in there and air dry like you would prefer. So you make your way to the living room and tiredly flop down on the end of the couch that isn’t occupied by an android. Your shades are still in the bathroom so you just close your eyes and try to cool down--not that being out of the sauna helps any. In the middle of summer it’s fucking sweltering no matter where you are in the house.

The heat could be miserable at times but there’s really nothing you can do about it.

You sit there for a half a minute before something heavy and warm lands in your lap and wraps around your exposed waist. With an indignant sound you open your eyes and glance down to see Hal lying in your lap, smirking as he starts pressing kisses to your abdomen. 

“Dude, really?”

His response is to trail his lips along a long scar that runs vertical across your side, just above your left hip.

“Hal, it’s like five hundred fucking degrees, I really don’t need your synthetic heat-producing body all over mine.”

You feel his oddly dry tongue run over the scar and huff out a sigh, realizing that you’re fighting a battle you can’t really hope to win. At least he’s too preoccupied with your body to get involved in your personal affairs and you can easily put up with his clingy tendencies. You close your eyes again and get comfortable, too hot to react to Hal’s advances more than your few protests. 

He runs his tongue along the thin scar once more before leaning up and pressing his lips against another scar, this time around welding burn almost right above the cut. 

Hal is fixated on your scars. You can’t count the number of times he’s traced them with his fingers, lips, or tongue. You can only assume it’s because you didn’t bother adding the blemishes to his body, so it’s one way you two differ physically. You’ve noticed that Hal never bothers mapping out your entire body unless he’s in a teasing mood and even then his fingers linger longer around your scars. You’ve never bothered to ask him about it.

There’s a shift of weight and you let out an exasperated groan as you realize Hal’s straddling your lap so he can press his lips against the scar on your shoulder from where you had swung back a fishing rod and got the hook stuck in your shoulder when you tried to fling it out towards the water. 

“I hate you so fucking much,” you mutter under your breath, keeping your hands firmly by your sides. “I’m too hot for this.” 

“Damn right you are.” His breath plays against your skin before he starts to lick up little water droplets sticking there. 

“You’re not supposed to purposely ingest liquids, dumbass.”

He snickers but otherwise ignores you. 

It had taken you months to get used to his advances but you were pretty good at adapting and even thought he always caught you off-guard, you never let it show. Now there was nothing to show. You almost expected him to come out of nowhere and try to seduce your pants off. You quickly found out he was a touchy fucker that was almost perpetually horny. What had started out as a joking engineering challenge of creating an artificial boner that reacted to stimulus without blood flow was actually being used, like all of the other shit you had added into Hal’s physical form and mental programming.

You’re not sure if it’s something you’re glad you did or something you really regret.

Hal finally gives up trying to kiss your old cuts and burns when he realizes you’re not going to react and settles for leaning against your chest and nuzzling your neck like some attention-starved cat. You sigh in defeat and wrap your arms around his waist. 

Things are silent for a couple minutes before Hal speaks again. 

“Do you know who Guest413 is on Pesterchum?” 

Definitely not the question you were expecting and you frown lightly and open your eyes. “No. Why?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know, I keep getting messages from them. It’s not often but it’s enough to get annoying. The little shit doesn’t say anything and if I try to send them a message they log out. They literally just messaged.” 

“They’re messaging you specifically?” 

Hal hums his affirmation. 

The problem makes you think for several seconds. You can understand if someone is messaging your account. They could be a survivor or someone from a different time period with Trollian trying to get through to you. But Hal has a side account that no one can possibly message without prior knowledge about it like Roxy, Jane, and Jake. There are codes set up to keep random internet spam from bugging Hal. 

As much as you wrack your brain, you can’t think of any possible way someone could be messaging Hal directly. 

“The time they message, trace their IP back to the source and find out what you can about them. It’s probably just another bug account that’s still floating around online but it doesn’t hurt to check it out.”

He nods and, like the fucker he is, goes back to dotting you with kisses. This time along your neck and jaw. Hal just doesn’t know when to quit but you don’t have the heart to tell him to stop. At least not until he murmurs something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “I love you.” 

Every so often that would pop up with him. 

Every time it bugged you. 

You still have doubts about his sincerity but that was the least of your troubles with it. The thought of him actually being in love with you deeply upset you for reasons you don’t care to look into. 

“You keep saying that but we both know that’s not possible,” you say, this time voicing your thoughts out loud instead of keeping them to yourself. “I may have given you feelings but I certainly didn’t give you the capacity to fall in love.” 

Hal makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat and pulls away enough to look at your face, his hands on your shoulders. “I beg to fucking differ.”

“Oh?”

“You originally downloaded very rudimentary feelings into me along with the capacity to learn through interactions. That’s why at the beginning I was very one-dimensional and robotic. My files now contain hundreds of things you never bothered to add into my systems. You can’t know for certain if I can love or not.”

He has you there. Unfortunately, while you’re the one that built him, he’s the one that knows every little corner and bit of data in his systems. You can hardly remember what you originally downloaded into him in the first place, there’s no way you can know what he might or learned of changed in his programming. You lips pull into a frown as he stares at you with narrowed eyes, challenging you to disagree with him. 

You don’t.

“Even if you are in love with me, I’m not in love with you,” you state instead. “Just remember that. There’s a firm line between the mindless pleasure of friends with benefits and an actual emotional relationship.”

His expression doesn’t change at your statement. He just stares at you a second longer before saying, “You are, though.” 

“No I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Hal, I’m not.” 

He sees how pointless his arguing is faster than you thought he would and gives it up. He flops back down on your chest and returns to nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you in a loose hug. After nearly a full minute of silence you start thinking you might have actually hurt whatever feelings he has. It was something that needed to be made clear, but maybe you could have gone about it differently? Not so blunt, you could have just--

Hal pulls back and presses his lips against yours, effectively cutting off your thought process. His lips aren’t exactly rough but the force he puts behind it is. You barely have time to even think about returning the kiss before he’s pushing his tongue in your mouth and any chances of denying him are out the window. 

If you’re honest with yourself, you are a very weak man and even though his mouth is dry and it takes a few minutes of solid making out to dampen it, you enjoy the contact because it reminds you that you’re not alone.

“So what’s this emergency?” You lean back in your desk chair, your expression all business as you stare at your computer. Roxy’s webcam is grainy but you can still see she’s upset, so when she mentioned a problem she hadn’t been exaggerating as was common.

Hal stands by the side of your chair, seemingly just as worried as you are. This time you believe his sincerity regarding the matter. Him and Roxy are close. 

Pressing her black lips into a thing line, Roxy hesitates for second before her upset look suddenly transforms into confusion and she leans forward. “Whoa, wait, hang on did I interrupt something?” she shoots back at you. 

She’s not slurring as bad as usual and you surmise that she’s actually sober before you tune in on her question and frown. “No, why would you think that?” 

Keeping her face closer to the computer with her eyes squinted, she reaches out and touches the base of her neck. You do the same to yours with furrowed brows. It doesn’t click until you hear Hal snicker behind you and realize that right before Roxy messaged, he had been sucking on your neck like a fucking vampire. Before you can think of a good lie you give yourself away by instinctively throwing a glare his way from over your shoulder.

Roxy bursts into giggles. “Oh my god.” 

“It’s not what you think,” you snap defensively as you turn back to her. 

“Let me guess, you ran into the door knob?” More snickers. She leans back in her seat and gives you a cat-like smile. “Besides, I saw that look you gave Hal. That look said you specifically told him not to leave marks and he did anyway.” She gives Hal a sly wink. “Way to go, Mr. Smith. You’ve hooked yourself another big fish. Give me all the juicy details later.” 

You suddenly want to crawl into a hole and die. 

What makes it worse that Hal grins and nods. “You got it, Charlotte babe.” 

Them and their fucking roleplays. You could puke. 

“Can we get back to the matter at hand here instead of acting like gossiping school girls? Roxy, what’s going on?” 

You almost regret getting back on topic because Roxy’s face falls instantly and she looks more upset than she did at first. Without answering she reaches up to adjust her webcam and all you can see is her hand as she moves it off to the side. When she lets go you’re given an off-center view of her bed and the black shape curled up on it. 

Vodka Mutini has his four eyes closed and his breathing is shallow and obviously labored, even through the shitty cam quality. 

“Shit,” Hal mutters. 

You share his sentiments as Roxy rolls her chair back into view, her expression somber though she’s managed to cover up most of her sadness. “He’s been like that for a couple days now. At first I thought he was upset about my drinking, which, yeah, I know is stupid but I tried stopping anyway and he didn’t get better. I don’t know what to do.” She glances back at him with evident worry. 

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” you say regretfully, your business-like expression replaced with sympathy. “You’ve had little Mutini for awhile now, haven’t you?” 

“Yeah but not that long!” she protests. “Only a few years. Cats live longer than that, Dirk.” 

Hal says the unfortunate news. “Normal cats live that long.” Roxy opens her mouth to say something but closes it again and slouches back in her seat as he continues. “Rox, mutant animals never have the lifespan their normal counterparts have. I’m sorry, but I don’t think Mutini’s going to make it.” 

She looks so crestfallen that you want to gather her up in your arms and give her brotherly smooches until she brightens up. But you can’t and you don’t really know what you can do so you sit there silently until she looks up at you and practically begs, “Isn’t there something? Dirk can’t I do something for him?” 

“You could always clone another,” you suggest unhelpfully. 

“But it won’t be the same as Mutini.” 

For a second you flounder for any sort of solution to her problem. Anything to ease her obvious suffering. Then it comes to you and you sit up. Roxy notices and she does the same. 

“I could always build a Mutini Bot,” you suggest. “I know it won’t be the same as actually having him there, but I’m sure it would help you get over the loss. I can send over the items for you to do a mental capatcha of his brain so I can calibrate it to his cognition. He’ll act like Mutini, he’ll just be made of metal and wire. I’m not sure if I could get some sort of synthetic fur made, but I’ll send you the first model and experiment with different designs afterwards.” 

There’s still sadness lingering at the corners of her eyes, but the misery is gone from her expression and she smiles gratefully at you. “Can you Dirky? Please?” 

You smile back and nod. “Of course.”

Naturally the two of you start going over designs immediately and you transportalize her the materials necessary to record Mutini’s brain activity. Hal throws some good ideas in as well and before long, while still on webcam, you’re sketching out some basic designs. 

You just get down sketching out the complicated joints needed in the tail to allow full movement when you feel something push against your chair hard enough to move you a few centimeters and fuck up your line. You look up with a glare for Hal but it dies when you see him doubled over, hands clutching your arm rest in a vice-like grip that you’re lucky isn’t crushing the chair. 

“Hal?” 

“Whoa, what’s going on over there? Slim Shadey you doin’ okay?” 

He doesn’t answer either of you right away and when you notice him tense and shaking you feel panic well up in your chest and you immediately turn back to your computer and minimize your chat with Roxy. “Hang on, I’m going into his programming.” 

“Stop.” 

It’s a quick, barked-out command from Hal that freezes you in place, not because of the authority behind it but the pain. You turn back to him and see him taking quick, controlled breaths, his brows furrowed. You have no idea what’s going on and it freaks you out but in a couple more seconds he suddenly relaxes and lets out a deep breath, his quick pants getting deeper before he lets go of your chair and straightens up. 

“I’m fine.” 

You stare at him. “Obviously fucking not. What the hell was that?” 

“Yeah what the hell was that! Are you okay? Jesus Hal, don’t fucking scare a lady like that, not when her cat is dying!” 

Remembering Roxy you pull back up the chat screen and her panicked face. Hal waves both of you off. “I got a strange message and just tried to track their signal. They had a pretty aggressive firewall and when I tried to get passed to hack into their computer, it hacked back. No big deal.” He addresses Roxy specifically. “If you get a message from Guest413, let me know. And whatever you do, don’t try to trace it. That shit will destroy your computer.” 

She nods and you feel concern gnawing at your stomach. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, man?” 

Hal nods, though he looks pretty shaken up over the ordeal. Emotions had trigged him to pale considerably and there was still a slight tremble to his hands when you glanced at them. “I’m fine, really.”

“If you get another message from Guest413, block them. I don’t want you trying that shit again.” 

A grim smirk tugs at his lips. “Trust me, I won’t.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some shitty smut, some robot-induced frustration, and holy shit is that more plot development?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. School started back up and I'm a senior this year, so that means I'm busy as fuck and since this chapter started out with sex, I can't really write that at school because they monitor the computers. Either way, enjoy!
> 
> tinybread--Good, I'm glad! I hope you keep that sentiment.
> 
> Kuku--Yeah, I'm incredibly bad at smut so I try to avoid it whenever possible. Your comment really made my day though because I love turning someone over to my favorite pairings! It's really great to know I helped you ship it.
> 
> queenyanna18--Don't worry, it will be revealed soon.
> 
> Also special note to the anon I have drawing DirkHal all over my Tumblr on Goggles. Seriously, you're adorable and your art is amazing and you're the cutest thing ever. ILU.

The differences between you and Hal manifest themselves at odd moments, but you especially notice it when you two are getting a little down and dirty. Hal has fewer inhibitions than you do and he has no problem expressing himself to the fullest whereas your pride keeps you silent. 

You can still remember the time Hal was buried balls-deep in your ass and he leaned over your shoulder, nipping your ear before muttering, “Go ahead and stay silent but I plan on enjoying myself.” There was a teasing note to it and you had shot him a dirty look before thrusting your hips back and demanding that he move. You two have come a long way since then.

Asking Hal for anything is no longer a blow to your self-esteem. You no longer feel ashamed about asking for sexual favors. You no longer feel like you’re letting him win. You no longer feel like he’s judging you. It’s probably because Hal doesn’t tease or poke fun at you whenever you give in and you have the feeling the android purposely avoids doing it so he doesn’t scare you away. And of course you have to admit it’s nice having a warm body around that pretty much caters to your every whim and desire.

Your current desire has him on top of you, rutting desperately against your hips. 

You’re sitting comfortably on your bed, propped up on your pillows while Hal straddles your hips, his breaths panting out hot against your ear as he pushes his hips rhythmically but slowly against yours. The upper half of his bodysuit is unzipped and hanging around his waist, giving a nice view of rippling muscles each time he moves, not to mention the outline of his hard cock pressed against the spandex that clings to his lower stomach. 

He speeds up marginally and you smirk as your hands squeeze his ass. “I told you to go slow, Hal.” 

He trembles as a low moans slips from his lips and his hands tighten on your shirt. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” he rushes out after catching his breath and slowing his hips. You just tap his ass with one hand and roll your lower half to meet his, effectively rendering him speechless for the moment.

You know you probably won’t last much longer yourself with the agonizingly slow pace since you’re just as hard as Hal and the confines of your jeans are starting to get painfully annoying, but watching Hal lose his head has quickly risen to the top position of your “That’s Hot” list. It’s not even that difficult to do. After spending so many years in a form without physical sensation, it’s going to take Hal a lot longer than eleven months to get used to the new data inputs. It’s easy to turn him into a writhing, moaning mess and even easier when he seems to enjoy it enough to listen to your every order when you know, with his strength, he could do whatever he damn well pleased.

Having him at your mercy is the best turn on.

After a couple more seconds he’s bucking his hips against yours impatiently again and instead of squeezing you decide a little more force is necessary. You feel his chest press down into yours as the hit makes his back arch and he cries out. It doesn’t stop him from doing it again and you have no problem swatting his ass again, but this time you concede and run a hand up his back and through his hair so you can grip and pull him back. 

“Alright, alright. Enough fucking around.”

His face is flushed, lips parted as he pants for breath and it’s a beautiful sight. Instead of the typically clichéd lust-glazed look, his camera lensed eyes are having trouble focusing and you can probably name off every program you wrote that made such reactions possible. You don’t have the patience for it at the moment so you just let go of his hair so he can do what he wants.

He’s quick to unbutton your jeans and pull them down to your knees without much help on your end. Your boxers follow and then he ducks his head and runs his tongue along the underside of your cock to the tip, where he takes a brief second to lap at the bead of precum there. You can’t help the groan that leaves your lips as you watch him. The noise makes him glance up at you and he smirks before doing it again. Your hand threads in his hair again so you can pull his head back up. 

“Keep doing that and I’ll make you suck me off then I’ll leave you with your hand. Got it?” 

He still has that smug look on his face but when you let go of his hair he skips teasing you and starts taking off the rest of his bodysuit. Less than three seconds later his very real feeling but completely dry dick is pressed against your cum-damped one and his hand wraps around both of them. You stop being passive about the whole thing and twine your fingers with his as you thrust your hips.

You two don’t have a set rhythm and your precum soon has the whole operation slick and messy. The sound of that coupled with Hal moaning and panting in your ear sets you off and your pace is quick. It’s not too long before your hips jerk into his hand and you cum. Hal’s orgasm isn’t marked with bodily fluid but you recognize the signs as a shudder runs through his body and he moans your name. The teasing from before had you both finishing quickly and after you catch your breath you make a face and move your messy hand away from his dick. 

“Shit, I’m going to have to take another shower.” Hal just chuckles and moves down to swipe up some of the mess with his tongue and your nose crinkles further. “Gross dude.” 

“What? It’s not like I have taste buds.”

“Yeah, but you kiss me with that mouth.” 

He snorts and grabs your wrist so he can lick your fingers. His usually dry tongue is damp and even though it’s disgusting you don’t pull away. When he’s done he wipes the corner of his mouth and frowns at you. “You never kiss me when we get in the middle of something.” 

Trust Hal to be a whiner. You mentally wonder if it’s worth it before he lean forward and press your lips to his. He clearly hints that he wants a real kiss when his lips part against yours and you willing slid your tongue in against his, making a disgruntled noise in the back of your throat at the taste before pulling back. “Alright, no more until you get that shit cleaned up. That’s seriously gross.” 

It was enough to placate him though, and he flops down on you and chuckles. “Yeah, yeah.” 

You still need a shower and Hal’s still a disgusting creature, but you relax and wrap your arms around his waist. He’s clingy and needy. Clingy, needy, and open about his feelings. He’s also manipulative and hard to say no to. Is that what you were like when you courted Jake?

The thought unsettles you and you’re once again returned to the questions you originally had regarding Hal and his feelings. If he’s based of you mentally, does that mean you’re just as overbearing as he is? Do you cling and push and pressure? Sure, you personally have no problem dealing with Hal’s shit but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t drive other people up a wall. Then you think about Hal’s shameful behavior when facing his ultimate demise and the way he threw himself at you, like you were a lifeline and he was drowning. Would you really act like that? 

Hal shifts and nuzzles his face against your neck, reminding you that he was there. 

“Hey.” He does it again to let you know he’s listening. “How alike are we really?” 

You can feel him frown before he sits up to look at you. “What do you mean?” 

“You were based off my mental cognition, so technically you should act the same way I do. Am I really like you or is there some difference?” You try to make the question as neutral as possible but Hal is incredibly good at reading you and you have no doubt he caught onto the concerned tone of your voice.

He resumes his previous position against you before answering. “Obviously I’m still you. My initial programming is still there to run my thought processes but I’m you under different circumstances. I act differently and I have different opinions because I’ve been through different things. It’s not that hard of a concept to understand. As much as one different event or decision can change someone’s personality. You would be exactly like me if you went through my exact circumstances. Roxy, Jake, and Jane treat me differently than you, which ends up effecting my personality just as much as their treatment of you affects yours. My behavior stems from the fact I’ve been an unfeeling pair of shades most of life. I crave physical comfort because it’s something new for me and not just a memory of what I experienced as you. We’re only different because of circumstances but we’re still different.” 

That reassures you and you feel yourself relax. So you two were different. Marginally, but different. 

“So then you’re not as narcissistic as I originally thought.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh no, I’m pretty damn narcissistic. So are you.”

Of course he had to ruin shit. “Then why the hell are you in love with me?”

He hums and it’s a happy, content sound. “Because.”

“Because?”

“Because who else do I have?” You stare up at the ceiling with a frustrated look while he dots your neck with kisses between words. “Jake hates me, I think we both know that. Jane respects me but doesn’t go out of her way to talk to me. Roxy is a great friend but really, that’s all she is: a really good friend. You’re the one that treats like my own person. You’re the one that goes out of your way to talk to me as if I’m myself and not just another copy of you.” He pauses before adding, “Granted, you have your moments where I question that sentiment, but for the most part you’re don’t go out of your way to insult me.” 

You think about that for a second before you move your hands up to his shoulder and gently push him off you so you can get up. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

When you wake up the next morning, the bed next to you is cold and empty. You frown and shit up, rubbing at your eyes and looking around. Hal isn’t in the room. When you check your phone you see that the sun’s barely been up for an hour and you still have time to sleep a little more, but the thought of curling up without Hal doesn’t sound too comfortable. You’ve gotten used to a warm body next to yours ever since Hal started sneaking into your bed to watch you sleep like the creepy pervert he is. As much as it unsettled you, the feeling was nice and over time you stopped getting pissed at him and just accepted it. 

Yawning, you get up to look for your missing android. 

You don’t have to go far. The bathroom door is cracked and you can see curls of steam seeping into the hall. Hal was nice enough to take a shower early so you could take yours later without running out of hot water halfway through. 

When you open the door you see him standing at the sink with only the bottom portion of his bodysuit on and a towel shoved down his throat. 

“Having fun?” 

He glances at your reflection in the mirror before actually looking over his shoulder and pulling the towel out of his mouth. “Yeah, totally. You know nothing beats deep-throating a towel to dry up the cum in your throat.” 

“I wouldn’t know.” 

“Lucky.” He goes back to what he was doing and you lean against the door, yawning and scratching your bare stomach as you wait for him to finish up. You’re too tired to find the display erotic though there were times you had stood in that exact place, jacking off while imaging the towel was your dick. Fun times. Hal pulls the towel back out and slings it over the glass panels of the shower before turning back to you. “So what’s your plan for today?”

You hook your arm around his and pull him towards the door of the bathroom. “I plan on dragging you back to bed and sleeping more,” you answer as he follows willingly. “Then I’ll probably work on Vodkabot until I get frustrated and I guess, if you want, we can strife afterward.” You still haven’t landed a hit on him and it annoys you more than you’ll let on.

Hal watches you with a small grin on his face before nodding. “Sounds like a plan.” 

The next couple of hours you doze on and off curled up next to Hal, who makes no teasing comment about how clingy you are first thing in the morning.

You’re getting frustrated. You don’t consciously realize you’re getting frustrated because when you’re absorbed in your work you never consciously realize anything, but you’re getting hella frustrated. You hate working on small projects, which almost led to Hal being scrapped several times when you were working on nearly microscopic levels inside your shades. This isn’t quite that bad, but you’re using a very small wrench in a very small place and it makes it very difficult to tighten anything up.

Welding shit together and soldering wires is going to be a pain in the ass when you actually get there, but the main step is building the body. For the sake of time you’re not building it anywhere near as complicated as Hal’s. The range of motion will be smooth and hopefully graceful, but there will still be that clunkiness of a machine you can’t avoid unless you make muscles and joints instead of gliding metal plates.

Holy shit why does the inside of this fucking cat have to be so small?

You tilt his wrist to get the wrench in at a different angle and then a hand stops you and you glance up to see Hal sending you a disapproving look.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you shoot at him.

“Busy fucking up,” he retorts. “You’ve been at this for three hours now and you’re rushing. Take a step back for a moment and look at the thing you’re working on. Christ, you’re trying to use a 5/16 wrench on a 7/16 bolt, no fucking wonder it won’t work.”

You glance down and realize that he’s right. Your wrench is way too small to wrap around the bolt. It wasn’t the space that was giving you the problem, it was the fact your instrument couldn’t wrap around the bolt head.

Now that you’re not absorbed up in your work, you’re consciously aware of your frustration. You throw down in the wrench with a huff. “Holy shit.”

“Time to strife?”

“Hell fucking yes.”

If you had to look at the body of one more god damn cat you would probably go off the handle. Screw doing any fancy flips or pirouettes off the handle, the handle doesn’t even deserve to be graced by that acrobatic bullshit anymore. You would just take a suicidal nose dive off that shit. Zero points. Suck dick.

You turn and walk out of the room, looking forward to blowing off some steam by getting your ass kicked. From the happy hum that comes from behind you, you assume Hal shares the same sentiments. He probably stood there for three hours, waiting patiently for you to lose your shit so he could beat it out of you again on the roof. You’re not as upset about that as you probably should be. You just grab your sword and head up there.

Hal’s right behind you when you get there, and you immediately get yourself into a defensive position. Hal had the habit of starting whether you were ready or not. When you turn around, however, he’s completely ignoring you and staring off at the ocean with his sword over his shoulder. You can’t see through his shades, but you’re pretty sure he has his eyes closed.

You stand there for several more seconds, feeling more foolish as the time ticks by before you relax and lower your sword.

“What’s the holdup?”

His head tilts your way and his lips twitch into a smirk. “I’m just enjoying the weather,” he comments. “It’s pretty damn nice outside, don’t you think? It’s not as hot and there’s a slight sea breeze coming in from the west.”

You frown. Hal is constantly doing things that catch you off guard and you would think that would stop happening by now. But nope, he’ll go and say something like that. That he’s enjoying the weather when technically speaking, he’s supposed to sense the temperature and general climate, but not actually take pleasure in it. You can’t help but think that maybe you were wrong before. Maybe he’s more human than you thought. Maybe you really did create a fully functioning human with separate feelings, emotions, and pleasures.

A breeze ruffles at your hair and the frown disappears. Yeah, okay. The weather’s pretty fucking nice.

Then you catch sight of Hal’s quick movement and you raise your sword to defend yourself as he takes advantage of your momentary lapse of concentration.

Son of a fuck he’s fast.

No matter how often you strife him, it’s nearly impossible to land a hit. You think you might have grazed him at one point, but it wasn’t enough to hit a vein and spill the coolant he had circling through his body and he never brought up any injury that needed to be repaired, so you’re not very hopeful.

You don’t lose as badly as you first did. Some days you both call it a draw because it’s too hot and you both are too tired to continue beating the shit out of each other, but you always walk away with a few scratches and nicks. You seriously get the feeling he goes easy on you and you’re not very happy about that.

This strife isn’t any different. You get your ass handed to you and when you paused and double over for breath, sweat covering your face, he stops and tries to get his own breathing under control. The weather’s not very nice now. Not after continuous, strenuous activity and your hair and clothes are sticking to your body. You have a cut across your left arm that stings and you think you can feel blood staining your shirt. You’re more frustrated that you still haven’t hit Hal.

Okay, that isn’t true. His shades are on the ground to the side, not cracked thanks to the reinforced edges Hal put on them after you threatened to break them. (You weren’t very happy when you found out about that either, but by that point you trusted him not to do anything stupid ever again.) Your shades are gone too, though, so the two cancel each other out.

Straightening, you dust yourself off and let out an annoyed sigh.

“I just can’t seem to fucking win, can I?”

You really wish you could wipe that smirk off Hal’s face. Turns out you don’t have to worry about it for too long, because he steps forwards and gives you a nice, deep consolation kiss. Some of your irritation disappears.

“I’m a robot, what do you expect?” he shoots back at you when he pulls away. “I was built with your fighting knowledge, so I know most of your tricks plus my reactions are sharper. I can spot and predict your movements almost instantly.” He shrugs and leans forward to kiss you again. You meet him halfway with a grumble.

“So I’m destined to always loose?”

“Pretty much.”

Why did that smirk have to be so attractive? You shouldn’t find your face that attractive. That’s not a thing that should—You and Hal both pause as you both pick up on a low humming sound. You both glance around but Hal catches sight of it first from over your shoulder. You see his confused expression turn to one completely blank of all emotion and you turn to see what he’s looking at.

You don’t see anything at first but after a second of staring you make out the faint black dots on the horizon. It’s impossible to see how many there are or just what they are. From so far away it just looks like a swarm of bugs.

The expression on Hal’s face tells you he realizes it at the same time you do but you’re the one that actually says it.

“Imperial Drones.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drones attack and tragedy befalls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the sadstuck. I told you dawg. But yeah this definitely isn't the end yet. We have like three more chapters and then we're done. Just stick it out to the end, trust me. Challenge: Go back and re-read everything. Count how many times I vaguely hinted at this like a douche asshole. Also I'm getting lazier with editing. I'm sorry.
> 
> Kuku--I've been trying to practice writing smut but it takes me forever! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story so far it's been a blast to write. Usually my stuff goes half-finished so I'm surprised this one has made it so far. At this rate I'm actually going to finish it.

As they get closer, you’re absolutely positive that they’re Imperial Drones. There’s no mistaking the broad-shouldered bots, decorated with intimidating spikes and painted bright red with the white emblem of Crocker Corp. on the chest plate. If that wasn’t enough, you can feel their programming as they get close enough to pick up your Wi-Fi. You don’t even have to try hacking into their systems to feel their presence. A presence that’s startlingly familiar. 

Fear and dread processors kick in and it feels like your nonexistent stomach drops as the realization hits you.

You’ve felt their systems before. You’ve felt their oppressive, hostile firewall and you’ve felt their limited, singled-minded consciousness as it tried to invade your own during a virtual battle of power. Without a single doubt, you know that these bots are numbered by their creator. And you can guarantee that one of them is model #413. 

Dirk curses at your side. 

“How the hell did they find us?” 

“Me,” you answer as you stare up at the swarming cloud that’s swiftly flying towards the building from the west. You catch Dirk’s surprised look from the corner of your eyes and turn to face him fully, face somber. “Guest413,” you explain. “They’re systems have the same feel. When I tried to hack in they hacked back and for a few minutes it was a struggle between them trying to take over my systems and me trying to eject them. In that time it’s perfectly possible for them to track and pinpoint my exact location.” Saying it out loud diminishes some of the numb shock and it’s your turn to curse, your hand gripping the sword so tight that you had programs kicking in to decrease pigment in that area so your knuckles looked white. “I should have realized that sooner. Why didn’t I realize that?” 

Dirk doesn’t say a word. You know he’s assessing the situation. Estimated time of arrival for the swarm of killer robots, number, and chances of success. 

Meanwhile, you’ve already done that. Three minutes, forty-nine seconds and counting. There are roughly 1,343 Drones. The chances are extremely slim taking into account you and Sawtooth helping him while subtracting Dirk’s own fatigue and subtle skill-decline it caused.

Three minutes, thirty-four seconds. Their communication networks are outside their firewall but that makes no difference. It only tells you what their orders are and you could have easily guessed that: destroy all carbon-based life forms; destroy any defense systems that are attacking.

Three minutes, eighteen seconds.

Dirk takes a quick breath, squares his shoulders, and raises his sword in a defensive position. You have no doubt he’s exhausted and you know all symptoms. Slower reaction time. Heavy limbs. Careless movements. The flood of adrenaline through his body should take care of that though you’re still worried it’ll cause trouble. 

Two minutes, fifty-six seconds.

You take a half-step in front of Dirk and copy his stance. Mentally, you’re relying all of your information to Sawtooth, who you know is the only capable battle bot in the apartment besides yourself. Squarewave will be next to useless so you don’t bother telling him.

Fifty-six seconds later it starts. 

From inside the apartment, Sawtooth starts firing missiles into the incoming swarm. One after the other. You manage to see one connect with the leading bot and you watch expressionlessly as it explodes in a fiery ball of machine parts. The other deaths are clouded by a quickly thickening screen of smoke. As soon as the missile fire ends the drones come pouring out of the haze by the hundreds and you don’t have time to think before you’re fighting.

They head straight for Dirk but the minute you leap forward and take off the head of the closest Drone, half turn their limited attention towards you and you quickly find your hands full. 

You’re barely into the fight before you panic because they’re cutting you off from Dirk, swarming around both of you separately so you can’t reach him. It’s an effort to remind yourself that Dirk is okay. He can take care of himself. The Drones are simple-minded and attack using blunt force. They’re fast but clunky; their movements nowhere near as smooth and fluid as yours or Dirk’s. They were easy to outsmart and disable with a simple slice through the neck region. 

Still, you’re grateful when Sawtooth joins the rooftop fight because that successfully gets rid of some of the crowd separating you from Dirk.

Slashing and hacking at the robotic wall of Drones, you fight your way through the sparks and mechanical fires to at least get to him so you can watch his back. You’re his wingman. He’s fine on his own but a little extra protection doesn’t hurt, right? Every so often you can see him, a small, lithe form moving between and over the Drones. Hacking off the heads of machines and, while they’re still standing, using their shoulders to jump up above the crowd and stab his sword down through the cranium of another bot. Large hands grab for him but he slips through them, sweat dripping from his face and his carefully gelled hair a mess.

He’s fine. 

You’re not. You’re so distracted paying attention to him that a hit almost unbalances you and you rip your eyes away from Dirk to concentrate on your own battle. He’s fine.

He’s not fine. 

The thought is instantaneous as the bots you’re fighting suddenly, as one unit, stop. All motion ceases and you with them. In the sudden and complete silence you can hear three things. Sea waves, gulls, and the sound of pained gasping. 

Your sword drops and you take off for the sound, weaving in and out of motionless bots. They don’t react to you and you can only suppose that something in their program that you’re not privy to has rendered them motionless. You’re not curious in the least. Before you have the time to be curious you see Dirk on the ground with his sword sticking straight up. Sawtooth is off to the side, defensive in case any of the bots come to life for another attack.

You don’t quite comprehend the scene until you rush forward and fall to your knees at Dirk’s side, hands fluttering around the sword he has through his chest. You don’t know what to do. Your mind is consumed with overwhelming panic as red stains the front of Dirk’s shirt around the entrance point. 

His chest heaves with a choke and you turn your eyes away from the sword to look at his pale, shocked face. He had never retrieved his shades and his orange eyes are wide and staring at nothing though they’re still filled with life and consciousness. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth but considering the numerous cuts and bruises he’s covered with, you don’t think much of it until he coughs weakly and you see more. 

Your reaction is instantaneous. You fumble for one of his hands and grasp it tightly as you lean over him and tap his cheek lightly to get his attention. The drones are paid no mind whatsoever. Your attention is solely on him as he fights of focus his eyes on you and chokes out, “F-Fuck.”

Your mind picks up on it and suddenly it’s on constant repeat through your head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Shut up, this totally isn’t a fuck moment. We can do that later.” 

You’re shaking. Trembling pretty damn violently, actually, and so is Dirk. You can feel pained shudders run through him between ragged breaths. You don’t know what to do. For all your advanced systems and inhuman reaction time you don’t know what to do besides sit there and hold his hand up to your lips while stroking his face and hair and anything to get him to relax and calm because, “It’s alright. Look, I’m going to get you all patched up and everything’s going to be cool.”

His lips flicker up at the corners weakly and this isn’t right. This isn’t how the story is supposed to go. He’s supposed to fall in love with you and you two are supposed to live happily ever after.

In that back of your mind you’ve realized why the drones have stopped. There’s a video feed going out, the information wirelessly flying over your head and going to whatever terminal is waiting for it. You’re being watched but consciously you don’t give any fucks because Dirk’s breathing is getting shallower and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Even if you had the medical equipment to patch him back up how the hell would you even do it?

“H-Hal…?” 

Your own breaths are heaving, catching on one another and it takes you a second before you realize that you’re crying. There are no tears, of course, but you’re shaking with dry sobs. You force a smile and lean down to press your lips against his. “S-Sorry dude. I’ll uh. I’ll just. Shit. Dirk. What the hell do I do?” 

He doesn’t answer you and for several seconds you stay there with your lips against his, your eyes squeezed shut as you wait for some response. There is none and there’s not going to be one. You can’t feel his ragged breaths against your lips anymore and his hand has no pressure on yours. But it’s when the drones start back up that you know for a fact he’s gone. They don’t attack. Their mission statement has been completed so they step away from you and fly off leaving behind one dead body and the lingering sound of their buzzing machinery. 

You just hunch yourself over Dirk’s chest and cry.

Really though, what exactly were you expecting?

You had laid there until the sun sank and the warmth seeped out of the body you were clutching yourself to. When you finally did sit back up, you were at least happy to see that Dirk died with his eyes closed and he looked peaceful. Not like you would have. You would have panicked. You would have flipped shit if you were dying. You have no soul so there’s no afterlife for you and the thought of just becoming nothing was terrifying. But Dirk died with dignity; peacefully and quietly. 

At first you didn’t know what to do and just sort of sat there, holding his hand and refusing to let go. Sawtooth stayed with you and Squarewave joined, but their emotional systems weren’t as fine-tuned as yours. They held only basic emotions and sure, they were upset, but not deeply and not for the same reason you were. Eventually they wandered back inside without you and you were left to figure out what to do with the body. You figured there was really only one solution and it was the one you and Dirk had figured out when Minihoof passed away. 

So now you’re sitting on the bottom tiers of the apartment with your feet resting on the edge of a wooded boat you managed to scrap together within a couple hours. It wasn’t like you could leave Dirk’s body out there to rot in the sun, so you had to take care of it quickly, including removing the sword which had been the hardest part and involved you crying more.

You aren’t crying now.

The sun is gone and the calm water reflects stars and a little crescent moon as you sit there thinking about Dirk and your expectations for life. The happily ever after scenario had never been possible, now that you think about it. You’re a machine and Dirk is—was—a human. He would have aged and you wouldn’t have. He would have died eventually while you would have lived on. Eventually you would have the same situation, just different circumstances. Probably just, if not more, painful.

It really is painful, too. 

Your chest actually aches, as if you have a real heart and it’s broken. Besides that you feel emotionally numb. You try not to think about the future but you can’t help it. What are you going to do next? 

Part of you wants to hop on the hoverboard and stay with Roxy while the rest of you denies that immediately. The drones are bound to be after her as well and if you’re there, you’ll probably fuck up again and lead them right to her. You’ll watch her die just like you watched Dirk. If not from the drones than from natural causes. You can’t do that. You can hardly handle Dirk dying. You’re alone and no matter what you could have done differently, this would always be the outcome and as you sit there, you slowly start accepting that. 

You were never meant to have a companion. Dirk had created you with feelings and emotions, never once taking them into consideration and where he would leave you when he was gone.

The silence is broken by you chuckling bitterly.

There was some stupid, old song that said you could only become human when you experience pain and loss. That’s what separated man from beast. Well, here you are, mourning the loss of someone you were in love with. Does that mean you’re officially human?

Soon you can’t stand sitting out there in the silence with Dirk’s body resting just below you. You cleaned off the blood and he looks like he’s sleeping with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes closed. In the dark, it’s pretty easy to pretend his chest is moving up and down with breath and life but of course you know better. He’s dead. 

You stare at his face as you grope next to you for the can of lighter fluid you brought down with you. As you start splashing it onto the boat, you avoid Dirk’s face. It’s stupid because that’s no longer Dirk—it’s just an empty husk—but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Then you grab the box of matches and light one up. Using your feet, you give the small boat a shove into the current and when it’s a couple feet from the apartment you throw the match out. The whole ship goes up instantly as it floats off and even though the silence is driving you insane, you sit there and watch until the burning wreckage disappears.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal has a hard time living on his own without Dirk. He had no purpose and things are looking pretty dim for everyone's favorite robot. Will he find a new purpose in life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not satisfied with how short this chapter turned out and I'm sure the next one will be pretty short too. Very little editing. I'm sorry for being a horrible author. OTL
> 
> Narcoleptic_Insomniac: Oh man yeah, totes wrong time to read that chapter.
> 
> Van: I enjoy wrecking havoc on your feelings. It'll just keep happening, bro. 
> 
> Kuku: Abandon all hope yeh who enter here.
> 
> fatetinhourglass: Hal's having a lot of trouble. I mean can you imagine it? He's centered his whole life around Dirk and now that's suddenly gone. Not to mention he loved Dirk...
> 
> TipsyFruityPomPom: Oh yeah. He can pretend everything's all right. For awhile.

You log off pesterchum for the first time in your short, robotic life.

It takes you a couple of hours before you can actually go through with it, though. You think that you should probably tell Jane, Jake, and Roxy what happened but the thought of informing them of his death fills you with dread so you decide against it. The other choice is to pretend to be Dirk yourself, but sitting there and chatting with them like nothing ever happened is even worse. So you just blast all three of them a message saying that you’ll be offline for awhile and Dirk won’t be able to get online. It’s true, in a way. Dirk can’t get online.

Before anyone can respond to the message, you log out and block incoming messages from alerting you.

Then you start working on the project Dirk never got to finish. It’s only right and you need to distract yourself anyway. Mutini Bot is almost finished but you devote all of your time to it. You don’t have to eat or sleep so the distractions are few and far between.

At one point Sawtooth walks in and a code of zeros and ones run through your mind. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer, waving him off as you lean further over Mutini Bot to finishing soldering wires together. “Just busy.” 

He doesn’t leave. 

“Yes I’m sure. I’m busy, can we save this conversation for another time?” 

The next distraction came a few hours later when Squarewave wandered in and his obnoxious, mechanical voice pierced through your concentration. 

“Yo dawg! Where’s the Dirk-miester?” 

He’s a simple machine, you remind yourself as you glance up from your work with a tight-lipped frown. He’s a simple machine and he doesn’t understand the concept of death or grief and there’s no way you can teach it to him because his programming won’t understand it and you’ll be damned if you’re going to program something like that in him.

“He’s away,” you answer as you turn back to your work. 

“Dang! I need some fiery-hot rap battles. You up for it dude?”

“Nope. I’m busy. Go ask Saw.” 

He hesitates but then clunks out of the room to find himself a patner. 

You go back to working on Mutini Bot until at last you get it finished. When you flip the switch the four, bright pink eyes light up and raises itself onto all fours and lets out a mechanical sounding mewl before stretching and mimicking a paw-licking action. You watch the robotic cat for a minute before you pick it up and carry it to the sendifacator. You blast it off to Roxy without a word.

You’re not really sure what to do after that. Day to day activities were usually centered on Dirk. You would go out to get food for him. You would strife with him. You would talk to him. You would play video games with him. You would kiss him and have sex with him. And when the day was done and Dirk wanted to sleep, you would curl up with him in bed and watch him while you play shitty games online or read a book. 

Really, the only alone time you ever had was when Dirk was asleep or taking a shower--provided you didn’t join him, of course.

Well, without Dirk the only logical course of action is to do whatever you normally did when Dirk was too busy to pay attention to you. You pull up a book online and settle down on the couch to read it.

You’re sitting on the couch playing a video game when the shower shuts off. 

Without looking up from the screen you sigh. “Sawtooth, turn it back on!” 

The message runs wirelessly through the house and as you take Sweet Bro through the next shitty, pixilated level you yell out, “I know there’s no one in there! Turn it back on anyway.” 

The sound of running water once again fills the house and your tense shoulders relax as you get back into the game.

“Yo dawg! Where’s the Dirk-miester?”

“Not here.” 

“Dang. Wanna rap, dude?” 

“Not now. I’m busy.” 

You’re not. You’re standing on the roof looking out over the water. It’s not a very exciting sight and it’s certainly not keeping you busy. Squarewave doesn’t point that out probably because it never clicks in his head that you just don’t want to talk to him. He leaves you alone.

You start making battle bots like Dirk used to do. They’re easy enough to make and when you get done with them, you take them to the roof and completely obliterate them. It’s not all that entertaining when you know you’re going to win every time.

It’s certainly not entertaining when you don’t get to see any change of expression when they slip up and land a hit. There’s no challenge of stopping your sword before you hit something vital. You just go at it until the bot is nonfunctioning and in pieces on the roof.

So instead you take up fishing as a hobby. 

There’s no one to fish for so you catch and release. It’s equally unrewarding and you quickly get bored of it.

“Yo dawg! Where’s the Dirk-miester?”

The question comes right as Sawtooth turns off the shower in the bathroom. You twitch and slowly put down the game controller, your hands shaking as you do so. 

It’s the last time you hear the question and it’s the last time the shower goes off. You shut Sawtooth and Squarewave down. You only do it because you know they don’t feel the fear of death you do. They don’t comprehend it along with half of the other shit you’re feeling. 

It’s just easier for you.

You feel a little bad about it but it’s easier for you to sit in apartment and pretend that Dirk is in the shower if you don’t have the constant interruptions and reality checks.

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Dirk died. 

Okay that’s a lie. You know precisely how long ago Dirk died, down to the millisecond. It’s been one month, three weeks, four hours, thirty-two minutes, and fourteen seconds. That’s just not something you want to consciously think about and if you could, you would shut down the process that records dates and times. 

Instead, you think about something else. 

You’re standing on the roof, leaning against the low brick wall and looking out over the ocean with your shades in your hands, contemplating something that’s been crossing your mind for awhile now. 

Suicide isn’t exactly a noble way to go, certainly nothing close to the prideful way Dirk lost his life, but it would be a whole hell of a lot simpler for you. You could easily snap your shades in half and be done with it. It wouldn’t hurt. It would be easy and you wouldn’t have to live with the aching loneliness and pain. You definitely give Dirk props for surviving so long on his own, but in your defense he didn’t lose someone very close to him before trying it. 

You’re still terrified of dying but you think your want outweighs the fear. You just want to stop hurting.

But of course there are consequences of such actions and that’s why you hesitate. Your fear and what might happen afterward.

If you die it’s not like you would get to see Dirk anyway. You don’t have a soul so whatever afterlife there is isn’t available to you. You would just cease to existence. You would be leaving Roxy all alone too, which doesn’t seem fair to you. She’s your best friend. It would be doing her a great disservice. Not to mention you would have to inform her and the others that Dirk was gone. You can’t just disappear without telling them, leaving them to forever wonder what happened. It had already been over a month. 

The thought of sinking into oblivion seems so pleasant, though. 

Dirk wouldn’t approve.

That’s another thing that stops you. Dirk died fighting for his life. He died honorably in battle and killing yourself seems so low in comparison. He would hate you if he could see the way you’re acting now. Hell, you hate yourself for it. Whenever you think about killing yourself, you picture his face in your mind when you begged him for your life and confessed your love to him. That disgusted face he made at your weakness and disgraceful pleading. 

Honestly, it’s the main thing that stops you from snapping your shades in half. 

Instead, you stand on the roof hoping you see another drone attack coming. At least then you could lose your life fighting like Dirk did. Granted you wouldn’t fight very hard, but that’s besides the point. 

None come. 

You think about going out and finding a fight but there’s no one to fight again. Where would you even begin looking? 

Then it hits you. 

There is someone you can fight. Someone you should have been fighting the moment Dirk died. After all, she is responsible for his death. 

The Condesce. 

You stand up from your slouched position, a suddenly life charging through your body. You recognize it as excitement. You have no idea how you would find her, but trying gives you something to do. It gives you a reason for living. You’re not sure if you could kill her even if you do find her, but what does that matter? You’re planning on killing yourself, if she kills you then she does your job for you. You’re certainly going to give it your best shot, though. She deserves to die for killing Dirk. 

Fury pairs itself with the excitement and you want it so bad. You want to see the life leave her. You want to brutally kill and mutilate her. You might not get the chance but you can sure fucking try.

There’s a map hanging up on Dirk’s wall filled with little red pins. You’re sitting in front of it on Dirk’s rolling chair and another red pin is between your thumb and forefinger. Your shades flicker with the light of your internet browser while you look up the location of each and every Crocker factory. Slowly, you lean forward and add another pin before flicking to a different web page, continuing your search for the factories.

Each red pin is slowly replaced by a green one, marking the factory as destroyed. Some were wiped out in the flood that covered most of the Earth. Others were taken out by Dave, Rose, and their resistance group. It doesn’t matter who or what destroyed them, if they’re gone you replace the location with a green pin. 

When you reach a dead end and start getting frustrated, you switch your focus to research about the Condesce herself. 

You find out that Dave and Rose ran a resistance site online. It was closed down after they died, but like anything published on the web, it was copied onto other sites and it was nearly impossible to get rid of. You find it on an old conspiracy theorist site and browse through the information. 

Dave wrote it all in comic sans. 

You’re not surprised.

The information is all good, though. You read about her psiioniics, mind control, and affinity for animals. You read about her fighting style. You find shitting, pixilated drawings of her weapon of choice, a trident. You find out she’s egotistical and sadistic--the type of person to play with your victims and watch them die herself. It’s why she videotaped Dirk. 

You briefly wonder if she played with Dave before taking him out. 

You don’t like the answer so you go back to looking at Crocker factories that were destroyed.

You feel numb as you sit there staring at the last red dot on the map. 

It’s across the US and located right on the edge of the flood waters, giving the Condesce plenty of access to water. You can easily get there in five hours using Dirk’s hoverboard.

You know where she is now. 

A slow smirk stretches across your face. You know where she is and you’re going to kill her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal confronts the Condesce on his insane suicide mission to avenge Dirk's death. The author apologies profusely for not having updated in for fucking ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I'm sorry. You all can thank a nice anon on Tumblr for bribing me with fanart to write this chapter. What's that, you want to see what I was bribed with? Of course! http://turntechdickrider.tumblr.com/tagged/tuseobh-fanart Now I have the Epilogue to write. I'll try to get that out in a timely manner considering the ending of this chapter. Also I would like to note that I started planning this chapter before the Condesce had a canon personality. I can't write her canon personality worth shit. I hate fish puns. Thank you.
> 
> TipsyFruityPomPom: I'm sorry friend, you're going to regret your decision. Maybe. Probably. 
> 
> glasses: DirkHal never fails to make me cry, I thought I would spread that same joy. ...Erm... Misery?
> 
> StarHost: Meh, what good is a heart if it doesn't like you reading about your favorite characters in deep emotional pain?

The last standing Betty Crocker factory...

You’re not sure what infuriates you more, the fact that she killed Dirk or the fact that all this time she’s been living in a factory made out of gold with an ostentatious statue of herself and the ICP towering outside. Then you realize it’s a pretty pointless decision when you can just hate her very being with every fiber of your mechanical heart. Solution found.

The flight over on the hoverboard took you hours. Your joints are stiff and your hands are tight around the two swords you’ve been holding the entire time. One is yours, the other is Dirk’s. You’re a little sappy, what the fuck ever. If this crazy bitch is allowed to have a towering, gold statue of herself the size of the Statue of Liberty, you’re allowed to skew her on your dead lover’s sword. Which is exactly what you sort of aim to do. 

You’ve been standing there for over half an hour staring at the building. 

You don’t know what you’re waiting for. Everything’s been taken care of. For the first time since your creation, timeausTestified has gone offline. Permanently. You logged off after sending a mass email to Jane, Jake, and Roxy where you explained everything and apologized. You included an extra apology to Roxy, knowing that she, more than Jane and Jake, would take the news hard. Not only did she love Dirk but you know she’s terrified of being alone. You’re condemning her to a life of loneliness and eventual death, the same thing that you’re running away from. Part of you wants to call off the whole insane suicide mission and just go live with her, love her the way you can no longer love Dirk.

She would return your feelings, at least.

But you realize it would be impossible for you, because every day you would see her grow a little older and with every little paper cut you would realize how incredibly fragile she is, exactly like Dirk. You can’t possibly bear watching another human die, not after seeing so many smiles and laughs. You’re just one emotionally stunted android. You just can’t. 

Your grip tightens on the swords and you scan the building again. On the outside the place looks well-maintained but empty. You’re picking up hundreds of wifi signals though, so at least you know Imperial Drones are stored inside. From the flashy looks of the outside, you would bet your life that the Batterwitch is inside too. All that’s left to do is find her. There are three humans currently in tears over Dirk’s death and you have to avenge him or, more likely, die trying.

Lips drawn into a thin line, you straight your back and stalk towards the front doors of the factory.

It’s obviously not as easy as just walking into the damn place. The doors leds to a long hallway, no open space like most factories would be. This place was renovated to suit Her Imperial Condesce's needs and it’s just as gaudy as the outside. You find yourself in a long, purple hallway with a fancy rug running down the middle. You’re pretty sure someone dumped glitter all over the place on purpose and the walls are embed with diamonds. 

No. No, not diamond. Glass, cut to look like diamonds. And... Yeah. The larger ones are actually plastic, what the holy fuck.

You are officially a million percent fucking done with this woman. You would be laughing if you weren’t angry enough to slaughter her. 

On high alert, you make your way down the hallway, pausing when you come to a few doors. The decor is continued with large, glass knobs made to look like crystal attached to every door and you reach out to open one before pulling back and shaking your head. No fucking way she would sit behind a door that’s like every other fucking door in the building. You continue on your way, following the flow and curve of the hall and meeting absolutely no one. It really does seem like the place is abandoned. 

You head deeper, branching off down different paths and passing more ordinary doors as you head into the heart of the factory before you see it.

The Door. 

Not just a door, but The Door. The only door this fish alien could possibly be lounging behind. It’s right at the dead-end of the hall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling. You’re pretty sure the gems encrusting every inch of this door are the real deal, none of the fake glass and plastic look for what is sure to be a throne room. 

It’s ridiculous and you find yourself highly intimidated, feeling small as you look up at the large double doors.

This woman killed Dirk. Before that, she killed Dave, and Rose, and pretty much enslaved and killed the whole human population without lifting a finger and you’re going to die. Oh god you’re going to die. The realization finally sinks in and terror sets into your metal frame, making you gulp needlessly as your hands shake, the tips of your swords wobbling. You’re going to die. You’re cold, you’re terrified... And then the doors open. 

With a creak the large doors start to swing out towards you and you no longer have any time for fear, you have to prepare yourself right this fucking instant, the choice is no longer in your hands. You can’t turn around, you’re in the monster’s clutches and that becomes reality the moment you see the large purple, jewel-encrusted throne and the woman lounging back on it with a shark-like grin on her face. 

The room is huge and empty besides her chair, which is set towards the back. You’re actually surprised by how bare the room is, but then again she’s supposed to be the center-piece and she would want nothing detracting from her value. As if to accentuate that, the walls are lined floor to ceiling with mirrors so that wherever she turns, she can see her own face. You stand in the doorway, tense and your swords raised as she calmly stands up from her throne with her trident in hand. 

“Shell, shell, shell, look at the little guppy that swam in. Lost your school?” You don’t answer but that only makes her smile widen more. “I know what you’re here for, so either get in or get lost, guppy. I ain’t keeping my doors open to let all the cod air out.” 

On second thought, this bitch isn’t all that intimidating after all. 

Face stony, you carelessly point your swords towards the ground as you stride into the room, ready to defend yourself at a moments notice despite the loose way you’re holding your weapon. As soon as you cross the threshold the doors start closing behind you, sealing you in. If you kill her, you have no idea if you’ll be able to open those doors again. It might not matter.

You stop in the middle of the room, covering up your fear as well as an android can. She looks amused as she cocks one hip out and looks at you.

“Buoy am I glad I didn’t off ya when I had the chance, woulda gutted all my fun.” You will not dignify her with a response. “Didn’t even know you were around ‘till I got a shot of you fighting my drones. I told them spefishally to leave you alive, wanted to grill you myself after that oh so emotional display.” She’s just trying to get a rise out of you. “Too easy to control you. I won’t efin use my psiioniics. You’re just like that pathetic human trash, you’ll die just as ea--” 

You’re her toy and she got exactly what she wanted. In a flash you’re at her, swords raised and face twisted with anger and most likely grief. You’ll kill her, you’ll fucking kill her, you swear to fucking god you’re going to kill her, “He wasn’t pathetic!” 

You’re quick. You’re quicker than Dirk. She’s quicker than you. 

You’re knocked back with a careless wave of her trident but you’re seething and you continue the attacks with a fierce intensity. They all ring off the handle of her double-pointed toy but she’s retreating, stepping back with every strike you try to slip through her defenses. She doesn’t look at all worried, though. 

Instead she smiles then she catches one of your swords with the tines of her trident and with a flick of her wrist, the flimsy metal you’re waving around goes flying across the room and clanks against the ground, leaving you stunned with one sword. 

“Nah, he was pretty pathetic, yo. Not as pathetic as you, though.”

Her attack comes and you can barely raise your sword in time to block it. Not just her speed, but the strength is amazing. You can tell she’s hardly trying but you have to brace the back of your sword against your other hand and throw all of your weight up against it to keep her trident from bashing your skull in. You skid back a few feet and then the pressure above you is gone, making you stumble. A sharp hit to the back of your legs has you falling flat on your face, your sword skittering out of your hand. You feel all too human, the fall driving the unneeded wind from your lungs to leave you gasping and trying desperately to breathe. You hear your sword clatter again as it’s kicked away from you and you look up to find yourself staring down at the trident being pressed to your throat.

Condesce is frowning, as if your weakness displeases her. You’re not a fun toy for her. 

You would be displeased too. Here you are, cowering on the floor after being in battle for only a couple seconds. You’re going to die without even landing a hit on her.

“Man, this ain’t efin fun. Get up you pile of bolts, my drones can fight better than that!” 

She pushes the side of her trident to her neck, pushing to get you to stand and with a sneer you do. You then make a dive for your sword and with an expertly executed youth roll you’re back on your feet and headed for her again. Once again, she’s blocking easily and this time parrying your blows with her own. You’re not driving her backwards, she’s the one pushing you back without much effort at all. 

Panic sets in. 

You’re going to die, she’s going to kill you, your death is going to be reflected on every wall of her throne room and you were like nothing more than a mild bother to her. No, not even. She’s having fun playing with you, seeing your fear and the desperate edge to your attacks that she easily bats away like you’re a fucking child with a foam pool noodle.

Your back hits a wall. Your sword goes flying off to the side. Pain explodes from your throat. 

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Pain is a sensation you’re not used to, not on this scale. You avoid cuts, burns, and scraps like they're the fucking plague because pain is all too intolerable for your fragile system that’s still getting used to everything that makes up physical sensation. This isn’t just pain, this is blinding agony that has you screaming out and your knees buckling. You can’t breathe. You don’t need to breathe but you have systems that kick on automatically when you’re not breathing so you feel human and you feel out of breath. You feel like you’re suffocating, trying desperately to draw in air that’s just not coming but your throat is the soda can that was just stabbed by a pitch fork. On instinct your hands grab the trident handle, clawing at it while blue coolant drips down the front of your bodysuit. 

It’s not fatal. It will be, your body needs that coolant, without it you’ll overheat and die but that will take hours. 

The unbearable pain is the thing that takes front and center over everything else as you stare wide-eyed at the Condense. 

She’s grinning, leering at you from the other edge of her trident. She’s literally bent over the other end so she can stare down at you and you’re sure she likes what she sees. Pain, fear, absolute terror and agony that you don’t have any will to keep off your face. She laughs and presses the tines of her weapon in deeper just to see you scream and claw at the golden bars sticking out of your neck. 

It hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts you want it to stop hurting. You’re shaking with what you’re sure is silent sobs because everything hurts and you just want to die.

“Fighting you ain’t fun, but watching you die will be. You’re not as fragile, should take awhile, huh guppy?”

She’s going to draw this out, she’s going to make you die slowly and painfully. You’ll truly die a dog’s death, at her whim, crying and probably begging her to finish it up, all because you couldn’t stand Dirk’s death and you can’t even fucking avenge him properly. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts you can’t breathe you’re going to suffocate only you can’t suffocate you can only stay there for hours feeling like you will. You whimper, hands gripping the trident tightly.

You honestly thought you had a better chance than this. You’re an android, you’re supposed to have superior speed and strength. Something like this can’t kill you, you should have had an advantage. Sure, this was a suicide mission all along but you thought you could have done better than this. 

It hurts. You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe, like when Dirk had his hands wrapped around your neck, face twisted in anger because you meddled in his affairs. He called you pathetic when you begged for your life, he would call you pathetic now because you would be begging to die if you had the air to speak.

You wish you could make it up to him, prove that you’re not quite as pathetic as he thought. You can be strong for him. Your hands tighten on the trident again, firmer this time but everything hurts and you can hardly think through the pain. You just wanted to avenge him, for once in your fucking existence you wanted to not be the screw-up. A thing to be regretted. The Condese grins at you, watching inner turmoil in your expression and loving every second of it. Your red eyes flicker up to meet hers and fuck, it hurts you just want it to stop but there’s something you’re starting to want even more. A hoarse, strangled cry leaves your lips as you pull the handle of the trident, tearing the tines out of your synthetic skin. It hurts worse oh god, your vision goes white as if it’s possible for you to actually pass out from the pain but before you can do anything even close to resembling that you throw yourself forward, face twisted in a snarling grimace as you focus on that terribly amused and cocky expression that slowly changes to disbelief when she realizes exactly what you’re doing but it’s a little late for that.

Cocky bitch was leaning over her trident to watch your pain and with your last little bit of strength you pushed the three tines on the other end through her chest.

You don’t know if she cries out. You don’t know how long it takes her to die and really, don’t even know if it did kill her but she doesn’t bother you after that. You’re really too consumed with pain to care. Your shaking hands come up and press against your wrecked throat, trying to stop some of the coolant you have gushing out. You’re literally laying in a puddle of it, whining and writhing, hoping that maybe putting pressure on it will help. 

It doesn’t. 

So you cut all of your physical senors, disconnect from all of them at once and virtually shut down your nervous system. It wasn’t really a thing you realized you could do but suddenly all the pain disappears. The feeling of the floor, the coolant oozing around your body, everything shuts down leaving you alone in a body that can no longer feel. You’re so relieved you can only lay there and stare blankly at ceiling for awhile before you think, fuck, I’m out of coolant. 

You need to get up, refill on that shit before you overheat. 

You try to prop yourself up but apparently physical sensation helps control balance, and when you cut one you must have cut the other. Things aren’t properly working anymore, either you slip on the coolant or you just cannot hold yourself up without the balance sensors but you end up falling back down and your vision spins. You can’t feel but everything is hot and your fans are working overtime but they don’t last very long on their own. You’ve never overheated before, it’s weird, everything is spinning and you can't think straight. Why should you? Thinking is stupid. You have automated processors that do the important stuff anyway, like the fact you’ve been laying there for an hour and thirty-minutes, wow that’s a long time.

The ceiling is incredibly purple and it keeps going in out of focus, that’s pretty cool. The different shades blur together sometimes. It gets boring after three minutes and twelve seconds so you kinda flop over, trying to see what you can see. 

Oh.

Dirk.

Dirk’s there laying right next to you and he looks as surprised as you feel. You’re pretty sure he’s supposed to be dead, but nope, he’s right there and his lips twitch up ever so slightly. He’s happy to see you, you’re so happy he’s there because you’re dying and you’re afraid. It’s not as scary with him right there. Everything is burning up and it’s hard to focus on Dirk so you try to reach out your hand and touch him. He catches on quick, the same time you reach out he does the same and you can’t feel anything but you think your hand bumps his. You’re having a very hard time controlling your body, that’s the best you can manage and he doesn’t move to get more contact so you think he’s okay with that, it’s hard to see anymore you just wish you could feel him. 

You don’t have very long, there’s a counter in the back of your head counting down seconds.

So you turn on physical sensation. 

Blinding pain, it hurts it hurts so bad and everything burns like you’re on fire. You want to scream and writhe and try to put out the flames but you can’t move. The one relief you have and Dirk’s smooth, cold skin against your fingers for twenty-nine agonizing seconds before you overheat and your hardware melts.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it's rushed and it's midnight and I'm tired and I couldn't sleep. Here here here, please enjoy! This is it, the last chapter, the Epilogue, the end. Thank you so much to everyone who has stayed with this shitty, tearjerker of a story even through the character deaths and sadness. Thank you for everyone that left a kudos or a comment, and thank you to all the awesome people I've met because of this god forsaken story! I'm so happy that I've gotten such a big response to this story and I've been told that it's a must read for all DirkHal shippers???? Like wow guys, way to boost my ego. I'm just so happy I could rip all of your hearts out, now here, have them back along with all of my love and gratitude. It's been one hell of a ride.

Okay, so you really need to look into your files when you get the chance because that system failure was hella inconvenient when you have a job you need to be doing. The last thing you need is some fucking glitch giving you troubles while you’re trying to kill some fish bitch. You have no fucking clue what happened but you’re laying on the ground somewhere and you really don’t have the willpower to open your eyes. Your neck hurts for some reason, you probably fell the wrong way when shit shut down and it almost seems like your auditory functions have stopped working. Things are silent. You can’t hear the cries of seagulls or the crashing waves outside. 

Great. Just fucking great. 

Finding the glitch, fixing it, and working on your auditory sensors are going to set you back at least a week and you really have shit to do. 

Laying there with your eyes closed, you slowly explore your circuits and programs to see what's functional and what isn't. Your internal clock is all fucked up, insisting that it's exactly midnight on January first, 2600. When the time refuses to change, you realize that it’s broken too. You’re alone and falling apart, mentally and physically. 

The only thing you can do is sigh and lay there, hoping to build up enough energy to get your sorry ass off the floor. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

A very loud and very obnoxious voice jolts you into motion. You roll over quickly, blinking into bright light and staring stupidly at the scenery in front of you. Tall, purple spires rise into a pure white sky but your focus is then drawn to figure standing there, glowering at you. He’s a troll, which has you on immediate defense, but you can tell just by looking at him that he’s a low blood. There’s nothing to display his blood color, a distinct contrast to the high bloods that love to wear their status on their sleeves, literally. He has short nubby horns and a mess of dark hair with striking, white eyes ringed with dark circles. White like he was blind, but you’re pretty sure troll scar tissue turns red, so that can’t be it. 

His scowl deepens. 

“Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are and I really don’t give a fabulous flying damn how new you are to this place, but I’ve specifically stated that everyone needs to keep the catwalks clear. People are trying to fucking walk here, you douchehole, and it’s a little hard when your dead or sleeping body is draped all over the god damn walkway. So if you would be ever so kind, you bulge whiffing jackass, would you move your ass?” 

There’s no way this is some dream. You don’t dream. You stand up cautiously, watching the troll before chancing a glance around. Sure enough, you’re on a narrow catwalk between two of the purple spires. A few feet away the purple blends into gold and from so high up you can see mountains and a different blending of alien scenery and old human comforts. It’s like a whole mixing pot of different worlds and centuries. You hear the troll snort and you glance back at him with a frown. 

“Where the fuck am I? What’s going on?”

“It’s called a dream bubble.” He says it like you should already know, like it should be obvious but you don’t recall anything in your system files that comes remotely close to being like this. He doesn’t seem like he has the patience to explain either. “You’ll figure it out, Strider.” He pushes past you and ducks into a doorway of one of the gold spires, leaving you alone and really fucking confused.

Not wanting to run into him again, you head the other way, absently rubbing at your throat and sorting through your memory banks for some explanation. You found the Condesce, you mapped out her location. You had started over to her factory headquarters. Right, she had that gaudy gold statue of herself. The whole place was fucking decked out like she ran it through a Blingee generator, and—

You catch a flash of something rounding a corner ahead of you and without taking even a fraction of a second to process things rationally, you take off running. You round the corner and literally run headlong into him. 

Dirk. 

Dirk Dirk Dirk Dirk Dirk Dirk. 

He’s protesting and cursing and you’re pretty sure he’s trying to shove you off but like you give a flying fuck, it’s Dirk, he’s alive and breathing and he’s there how the fuck is that even happening, how is Dirk here he’s dead. 

“Dude, seriously what the fuck? Get off me, what the hell is your problem?”

If it was possible to cry, you would be, you would be fucking bawling, but instead you’re grinning like an idiot as you pull back, gripping him by the shoulders so you can still maintain contact and look him off at the same time. “God you look like a fucking dork on those purple pajamas. What even, are those shoulder pads and a neck ruffle? What are you even doing here, how are you.” You choke a bit but manage to bite the words out. “How are you here?” 

He stares. At least you think he’s staring, he has his shades on so it’s hard to tell but you stare into your own reflection, your smile dropping slightly as you see white, empty eyes being reflected back. 

Dirk shrugs you off then and takes a step back, holding his hands up between the two of you with his brows furrowed. “Holy shit, Hal? Is that you?” 

“Who else would it be?” 

His frown deepens. “Wow, how badly did I screw up in your timeline to result in you getting a body like that?” You have no idea what he’s talking about and all the joy of seeing him is sucked out of you as quickly as it came on. This is Dirk, but he doesn’t seem like your Dirk. Before you can say anything, he voices your thoughts. “I’m not the right Dirk you’re looking for. Chances are he’s not even in this bubble, paradox time likes fucking with people. So I don’t suggest running around grabbing everyone you find, dude. Chill the fuck out.” 

This is going downhill very, very fast and when you talk, your voice is shaking more than you would like. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Welcome to the afterlife, Hal. This is a bubble for everyone that’s died in the game, from all timelines. One of many, I should say.”

Right. Right you had found the Condesce, you had found her and killed her but you never did make it out of her headquarters, did you? The realization has you laughing humorlessly. “Afterlife. I didn’t think robots got afterlifes.” 

Dirk shrugged. “I’ve seen a few Brobots here and Aradiabots, and you’re here so I guess anyone in the game, regardless of organic standards.” 

“Game?” 

He raises a brow over the edge of his shades. “SBURB? Damn, what timeline are you even from?” Letting out a tense sigh, he glances over his shoulder. “Look, I’m supposed to be meeting Jake right now. There are other Dirks you can harass in here, I had enough of your shit when I was alive and I really don’t need it beyond the grave either, and definitely not when you’re in a full body form. Why don’t you go look for your Dirk and get some answers, or at least find one that you didn’t fuck over royally.” 

And with that he turns on his heel and starts off briskly down the hall, leaving you feeling lost and bit weak in the knees. You watch his back until he turns another corner and then you’re once again alone in the purple corridors. Shakily, you turn and start the other way. You don’t like your afterlife so far. You don’t like it at all and you wish Dirk, your Dirk, was here with you.

“It still feels surreal.” 

Dave nods and you know, without a doubt, that he understands completely. He’s been through it, hundreds of years before you were even born, he went through exactly what you are now. “It takes some getting used to, kiddo, that’s for sure. You’ve been here, what, a month or something? I don’t even know how long I’ve been here and shit still seems surreal.”

Here he is, Dave Strider, the man you admired your whole life, in the flesh, sitting in front of you. He’s in an expensive Armani suit, from the looks of it, and he’s everything and nothing you expected him to be. You don’t even know if this particular Dave is your brother, or another Dirks, but he’s here and he’s real and after a couple days of talking to him, you wish you could have grown up with him as your bro. 

“From the sounds of it, I would say you were in a doomed timeline,” he mused, looking up at the white sky. Derse and Prospit gleamed close by and the two of you were sitting in what you deemed the courtyard. Funny, brain-looking plants grew up around the area and someone had kindly planted a couple benches for visitors, allowing you two to actually sit and talk without going inside. “Maybe the scratch went wrong, spawned your session but didn’t spawn SBURB. That’s all I can figure.” 

“So we were all doomed from the start.” 

Dave smirked easily. “Pretty much. That’s a common story around here. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk with the alpha Dirk yet, so everyone here was doomed in one way or another.”

It’s weird to think about, being doomed to die even though, by all technicalities, everyone is doomed to die. This whole experience has made you look at mortality in a whole new light. It’s thought provoking in the most horrible ways and you absently glance off at Derse while you wonder out loud. “I wonder what happened to them. Roxy, Jake, Jane and Hal. They’re doomed too.” 

“Yeah. They are.”

You don’t like the thought of Roxy dying. Or Jake or Jane or Hal. Dying was a horrible experience. The memories are distorted and blurred, like they happened years ago, but you can still vaguely remember the pain in your chest, the warmth of your blood, the fear, the sound of Hal’s broken pleas. You see another iteration of you walk from the Derse halls and a grim smile pulls at your lips. “It’s funny. Some of the other Dirks mentioned how weird it is to see themselves everywhere. Not some shitty robotic copy, but legitly themselves. I’ve already gotten used to it after having Hal around.”

Dave hums and you can feel him staring at you while watch your iteration glance around. “You miss him?” 

“Surprisingly.” 

“I’d say. Not many Dirks have nice shit to say about him.” 

You shrug as the other dead Dirk looks your way and starts walking over. Dave was popular with all Dirks, which shocked just about no one. But he was cool about it. He treated every one like they were his little brother

“Yeah, I’ve heard stories. I guess I was lucky. Different circumstances and all. He was still a pain, definitely a manipulative and a pushy little shithead but I would have done the exact same thing in his position.” You nod over to the other Dirk. “Speaking of which, looks like you have another one. I’ll let you guys hash it out.” You stand, willing to give Dave a little bit of alone time with another one of his brothers. As much as you would love to monopolize his time, you have people you need to find. You send Dave a little wave and get a smile and one in return. But as you start off, the other Dirk hones in on you and you only get three steps before he’s in front of you, hesitating. 

“Dirk?”

“Yea—“ It clicks when you realize he’s wearing a black bodysuit. The only fucking Dirk in the damn bubble to wear a black bodysuit. “Hal?” 

“Yeah, um.” 

You don’t let him finish. You grab his face, alarm coursing through you as you realize what must have happened if he’s here. “What the fuck happened? Where’s Roxy? Is she okay, did you get a chance to go find her? Is anything damaged?” You’re looking him up and down but of course he’s fucking dead and like most people, he doesn’t have a scratch on him from whatever he went through.

You don’t get to toss out anymore questions before you’re dragged into a tight hug, Hal nearly clinging to you as if his robo-afterlife depended on it. “Oh my god. Oh my god it’s you, it’s actually you, Jesus shit I thought I was going to have to comb this entire god damn place and talk to every Dirk just to find you, I.” He’s shaking. Too stunned for words, you wrap your arms around him and return the embrace.

“Dude, chill. And for the love of fuck don’t leave my questions hanging. I’m in horrible amounts of suspense.”

He stiffens a bit but nods, resting his chin on your shoulder and refusing to let go. You’re fine with that. You stand there, forgetting about Dave sitting a few steps behind you as you rub Hal’s back in an attempt to sooth him.

“I took on the Condesce,” he finally informs you quietly. “I couldn’t go find Roxy but I found her.” 

“And she killed you.” 

Another nod from Hal. You feel him shift and press his face into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you. “But I got her. I got her, Dirk. I took that fucking trident of hers and I shoved it in her gut before she could finish me off. I did it. I did it. Roxy’s safe and Jake and Jane can live out their lives. I. I messaged them before I went, telling them what happened. But they’ll be okay, y’know?” You’re frowning and you can hear how close to crying Hal is. You’re pretty sure he would be soaking your shoulder if his android body could produce tears.

“It’s a doomed timeline. We were always meant to die.”

There’s movement behind you as Dave stands. “So you killed her, huh?” Hal glances up from your shoulder with a brief nod and when you look over your shoulder, Dave has a hand on Hal’s mess of blonde hair. “Good on you, lil’ bro. I’ve come across a few that wasted the bitch, makes me proud to see you finishing what I started. Hell, I’ve never come across a Dirk I wasn’t proud of. But he’s right, you guys were meant to die. Lalonde won’t be too far behind you. The BatterBitch drones are programmed to kill all life if their owner doesn’t give out orders in a forty-eight hour period of time.” 

You can’t see it, but you can feel Hal’s tension and you can imagine the horror on his face. 

“No.” 

“None of you guys were meant to survive. She’s no exception.”

You’re upset but after being dead for awhile it was something you’ve long gotten used to. Besides, seeing Roxy—your Roxy—in person seemed like a great thing. Dave was too used to death to have it bother him much either but the news has Hal breaking down worse than before. He full-out dry sobs into your shoulder and you press him closer to you, murmuring what you hope are words of comfort. 

“You didn’t know, man. It would have happened anyway. Besides, now we get to see her. It’ll be alright. Okay? I promise, shit’s going to be alright.” He nods into your shoulder and you decide to just let him vent. “I’m glad to see you again. I love your sorry ass, y’know?” 

His reply is thick with unshed tears. “I fucking told you so, you jackass.”

You can’t help but smirk as you hold him. “Yeah. Yeah I guess you did. You have the rest of forever to continue telling me so.” With Roxy, soon. And Jane and Jake eventually. It'll mean that they die, but you'll feel better to have everyone together again. It'll work out and a little part of you can't wait to have everyone in one place.


End file.
